


The Merging

by sarahyellow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Hate to Love, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Dean Winchester, Sexual Tension, Werewolf Sex, Younger Dean Winchester/Older Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22170565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyellow/pseuds/sarahyellow
Summary: Most humans didn’t understand or approve of it, but the truth was that werewolves thrived better on hierarchy and dominance than anything else. Democracy was cute and all, but it usually spelled disaster for weres when they wanted any sort of organized pack living.Sam finally makes the drive out west to claim his mate.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 56
Kudos: 215





	1. Potato Salad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Led Zeppelin’s Ramble On—one of Dean’s two favorite songs in canon 😁

_Leaves are falling all around  
It's time I was on my way  
Thanks to you I'm much obliged  
For such a pleasant stay  
But now it's time for me to go  
The autumn moon lights my way  
For now I smell the rain  
And with it pain  
And it's headed my way_

_Ah, sometimes I grow so tired  
But I know I've got one thing I got to do_

_Ramble on!  
And now's the—_

_BingBingBingBingBing!_

The muted sounds of Sam’s ringtone pulled him from his thoughts—thoughts that’d been growing heavier the last fifty miles or so. He jabbed at the button to turn the radio off and struggled to keep his eyes on the road while he dug his phone out from wherever it was buried on the passenger seat. His knee dug painfully into the center console as he twisted, making him curse. “Ugh, shit. God.” _Fucking compact cars_. “Fuck, shit.” The phone only surfaced by the third ring, and he hurriedly picked up the call and jammed the phone against his ear, “Yeah, hey. Hey John, I’m here.”

The voice on the other end made a friendly rumble. “I was beginning to worry.”

“Sorry.” Sam straightened back up in his seat. “I was beat last night. Stopped and got a room outside of Marfa.” The drive from San Antonio to El Paso took about eight hours, and while Sam was a man of many strengths, prolonged highway driving wasn’t one of them. “Didn’t want to fall asleep behind the wheel,” he mumbled, somewhat self-consciously. He and John weren’t so well-acquainted that first impressions didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want his de facto father-in-law to think he was weak, even in this. “I’d gotten a late start to begin with, worked a lot of hours to make sure nobody from the firm would be bothering me this weekend.”

John’s understanding hum over the line assured him that there was no judgement. “No rush,” he said. “Just get here alive.”

Sam relaxed. “Yeah. I’m about an hour out. I’m checking into the _Blue Star_. I’ll get unloaded there, then head over your way right after.”

John made a noise of contention. “Motel?”

“Yeah.” 

“You know you’re welcome at my place. Plenty of room. You’re a Winchester too, after all.”

It was true that they were distantly related, but Sam shook his head and said, “I appreciate it, really. But—”

“Be better than a stuffy motel. This is your pack now, or it will be soon. You should be with pack.”

“Thanks John, really. But I think the motel’s best for now. I don’t want to intrude.” He was quiet for a minute, John not speaking either, and then he added, “It’s his house, too, you know? I don’t want to make him feel like—”

“He needs to accept that you’re his Alpha, same as the rest of them do,” John cut in, sounding frustrated, though not at Sam. “Might do him good, having you close by.”

Sam huffed. “Yeah, I don’t know.” He didn’t say so to John, but he was kind of the opinion that the other man was being a little tough on his adopted son—Sam’s intended mate. “You said he’s got an attitude a mile wide.”

“He does. Doesn’t mean you have to side-step it,” John said. “You haven’t been around the past couple of years. Dean’s changed. He needs to be shown his place in the pecking order.”

“Okay. Well… I’m still going to check into the motel. Maybe if things go well, maybe then I’ll come on over and use your guest room.”

“Sure.” John sucked his teeth in disapproval. “Well I guess we’ll see you soon. Come over after you check in. We can have lunch.”  
“Sounds good.” A beat, and then Sam asked, “Will he be there?”

John scoffed. “Son, if _I_ can tell you’re nervous over the phone—”

“I’m not.”

“He’ll walk all over you,” John finished firmly. “Now I know I said I’d stay out of it, but he’s been my charge since he was twelve and if you need me to sit him down and—”

“I don’t,” Sam snapped, not meaning to sound as harsh as he did but unable to keep the emotion out of his voice. He sighed when John got quiet on his end of the line. He didn’t need to go making things tense with the man he was taking over from, too. 

Things hadn’t gone well for the wolves out west, these past five years. Sam was coming to help merge their two packs and basically salvage what was left of El Paso. While it was in everyone’s best interest, there were still bound to be a few sore spots from the transition. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just want to get things started on the right foot here. Let me get a feel for him before you go stepping in, okay?”

John snorted but didn’t argue. He wasn’t the sort of man to go running his mouth, Sam had learned from their few interactions over the years. But that didn’t mean he didn’t hold plenty of opinions. “Sure,” he said again, sounding darkly amused. “You come ‘get a feel for him’, then we’ll talk.”

Sam sighed in relief. “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

“See ya soon.”

They hung up, and Sam tried to relax back into the too small seat of the sedan. One glance to the next road sign told him he was forty miles out from the small town where he’d soon be instituting himself as pack Alpha. He turned the radio back on, wincing when the station came through with a burst of static. It cleared after a few seconds, but Sam suspected he’d soon have to spend the remainder of his drive without any music. The ground was turning more rugged now, the flat dessert highway that’d marked most of his drive giving way to hills and craggy terrain. In the near distance, mountains loomed. 

The radio gave another sputter of static, then suddenly the station’s previous song began coming through clearly again. Sam pressed down harder on the gas pedal, accelerating down the road.

_Ramble on!_

_And now's the time, the time is now  
To sing my song  
I'm going 'round the world, I got to find my girl  
On my way  
I've been this way ten years to the day  
I gotta ramble on  
I gotta find the queen of all my dreams_

.oOo.

 _Paul, Texas_ was a dusty highway town that’d never amounted to much more than a spot for travelers to rest and refuel before continuing on to more important places. It was lodged neatly in between the Davis and Wylie mountain ranges of West Texas. At an hour and a half outside of El Paso, it was isolated enough to protect pack privacy. It was where the shaky remains of the El Paso werewolf pack had relocated after the death of their Alpha, years before. Fighting among the few remaining hotheads for pack leadership hadn’t gone well, no one person having had a strong enough wolf to take effective control. Everyone had basically gone their own way, calling themselves pack but living independently. Like humans.

Most humans didn’t understand or approve of it, but the truth was that werewolves thrived better on hierarchy and dominance than anything else. Democracy was cute and all, but it usually spelled disaster for weres when they wanted any sort of organized pack living. That’s what had happened in El Paso, and then in Paul.

Compounding the issue was the fact that Alpha Ackles had left behind an heir—an omega son on the verge of puberty. If that wasn’t a beacon for every trouble making, power-grabbing moron west of the Mississippi, Sam didn’t know what was. John Winchester had taken Dean into his home, and then somewhat more reluctantly taken up the mantel of interim pack leader. Sam respected the man, but they both knew that the only thing that would create long term stability for the pack was a dominant Alpha, mated to the old Alpha’s omega offspring. Not exactly a modern notion, but there were reasons why weres lived separately from mainstream human culture.

The main drag of _Paul_ consisted of two gas stations, a diner, a motel, and two bars. Most of the town’s residents lived in trailers and doublewides that couldn’t be seen from the road, with the occasional house thrown into the mix. Sam knew there was more to it—a high school and health clinic, other businesses, but the view from the main road didn’t show anything else. Caught somewhere between desolate and quaint, it was a dusty little town in the middle of nowhere that Sam had agreed to take on. The drive through town and over to the motel gave him ample opportunity to observe how much worse off Paul looked than what he remembered from his last visit three years ago. It didn’t exactly make Sam feel good about how long he’d stayed away.

Maybe this’d been a mistake, he thought glumly as he parked in front of the motel and got out of the car. Two people stood smoking cigarettes outside one of the ground-level rooms, and they stared at Sam with narrowed eyes and expressions of distaste. It was hard to tell if they were human, what with the cigarette smoke wafting around and obscuring their scent. They gave Sam an uneasy feeling though. He proceeded to the front office to pick up his key, silently questioning his choice to leave San Antonio for this merger. One awkward wince of a greeting on his way back past the two smokers—who were, unfortunately, his neighbors—and Sam shut himself away in his room.

The _Blue Star_ motel was tidy but old, and when Sam swung the door to his room open he wasn’t exactly impressed with the ambiance. Oh well. He sighed and threw his bags onto the bed. At least it seemed clean inside. He couldn’t smell any hint of previous occupant, human or were, which was unusual and appreciated. He briefly contemplated unpacking his things but decided against it. Who knew how long he had before John pressured him into staying at his house? 

.oOo.

John’s house was far from the main road, set back in a sparsely wooded lot. There was a large truck and a vintage Chevy Impala parked in the driveway. Sam parked behind the Chevy and got out. He looked around and gave the property a once over, thinking that it had a nice feel to it. The trees around the house seemed larger and the underbrush thicker, which was pleasing to Sam’s inner wolf. He took a deep inhale of the air, re-learning the smell of the nearby nature. Somewhere in the near distance was running water, and the old smoke of a burn pile could be detected as well. Sam couldn’t make out the scent of any other wolves, but he figured that was because whoever the cars belonged to must be inside the house. There were no visible neighbors. He headed up to the porch and knocked twice. The door swung open, and there stood John. The man smiled and pulled Sam in.

“Winchester,” he gruffed, giving him a one-armed hug and pat on the back. 

Sam grinned and returned the greeting. “John. Good to see you.”

“Come on in, I’ve got Adam here making us some lunch.” John nodded at a teenage boy as they rounded the kitchen. He definitely looked younger than the last picture Sam had seen of Dean. So fifteen, maybe sixteen.

The boy looked up with nervous eyes. Sam could see it as he scented the air and realized who Sam was. “…Alpha,” the boy mumbled, nodding respectfully and fixing his eyes back on the bowl of food he was tossing. It looked like potato salad. 

John and Sam both grew uncomfortably quiet at the title. Adam was John’s one biological child, and up until very recently, ‘Alpha’ would’ve been the title Adam granted his father, if anyone. But now Sam was here, ready to relieve John of his interim role as pack leader. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly and avoided John’s gaze. John pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down with a weary grunt. Sam winced. “Um, hi Adam. You can just call me Sam, for now. Nothing’s official yet.” 

Adam’s eyes flicked back up to him, this time assessing him more closely. He looked uncertain, but at Sam’s attempt of a reassuring smile, the kid seemed to settle. “Sam,” he said quietly. “Nice to meet you.”

Sam smiled. “You too.” He watched as the kid continued getting lunch ready, assembling sandwiches and setting out a cooler full of drinks, then plates. Sam didn’t offer to help—it would’ve been awkward and rude if he did. This kid was obviously omega, and this was his family’s house. It was his job to make sure guests were taken care of. Sam wouldn’t dare insult him by suggesting he could take over. 

“Oh, and this is Bobby,” John said just as someone else entered the room. It was a gruff, older looking man, and he was in a wheelchair. 

The man wheeled over to the table and nodded at Sam after giving him a long once-over. “You’re the Alpha from San Antonio. Jesus you’re tall. How the hell old are you?”

“Twenty-seven?”

“Well try and sound like you’re sure of it. Christ.” Bobby leveled him with a stern stare. “So you’re the one who’s forcing us to move.”

Sam stiffened. “Nobody’s forcing anything,” he said. 

“Not what I heard.”

“We have a lot of good land in San Antonio,” Sam defended. “It’s organized. A lot more opportunity for some of the folks who aren’t doing so well out here.”

Bobby snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Pack structure is great, out east. We can help you get on your feet.” Bobby raised his eyebrows sky high. “Uh, that is… so to speak.” Sam flushed and averted his eyes from Bobby’s clearly paralyzed legs. “We’ve got tons of social assistance, jobs. More permanent housing.”

Bobby scowled. “Not everybody needs a fancy house.”

“I... guess not.” Sam didn’t know what to say to make Bobby like him, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t figure it out soon. “We also have good relations with the general population.”

“Humans?” Bobby grunted and grabbed a can from the cooler—a beer. He snapped it open and took a swig. “Yeah, I’ve heard how fond you all are of ‘em out your way. Progressives. Real HarmOneous.”

Sam stiffened at the audible distrust in Bobby’s voice. “Yes,” he said. “We _are_. Public awareness campaigns are pretty well-funded in that part of the state. And the nearby rangers get our situation, understand our needs. We’ve negotiated safe running conditions for the entire pack.” Sam wasn’t sure if Bobby was capable of running in his wolf form, but by the way the man’s eyes snapped to attention, he guessed that he was. “Nobody _has_ to move,” he reiterated. “Right now I just want to get acquainted with the pack. John told me you’re a good man to know for that.”

Bobby snorted and waved him off. “This idjit? Ha.” 

Sam wasn’t entirely sure what to say back to that. “Well…” he stammered. “It’s um, nice to finally meet you, anyway.”

Bobby nodded, attention moving to his beer more than the conversation. Sam tried to move on from the awkward introduction. “Um, this looks great,” he offered as everything was brought to the table. Sitting down across from John, he nodded at the fifth plate that Adam had set out. “Is uh, is Dean eating with us?” Adam froze where he was about to rip open the bag of potato chips. His eyes flicked nervously to his father, the combined scent of the two of them making Sam raise his eyebrows. “Sorry. Didn’t you say he was home?”

John nodded. “Yeah. He’s upstairs.”

“Oh.” Everyone stayed awkwardly quiet, and Sam inhaled slowly, understanding. No doubt Dean would’ve heard his car pulling up outside. And even if he hadn’t, he definitely would’ve heard and smelled him once he came in the house. Obviously, Dean was avoiding them. It was… rude, but Sam tried to act like the absence didn’t bother him. Adam handed out the sandwiches he’d made, and they each took portions of the side dishes. Sam made sure to compliment Adam on the food once again, and Bobby and John asked a few friendly questions about how his drive over was, but other than that, the meal was eaten in relative silence.

The quiet tension in the room broke when John finally snapped at Adam, “This is ridiculous. You go tell him to get down here.”

Adam started to go, but Sam pushed his chair out and stood. “No, no it’s okay. Maybe it’d be better if I went up.”

John snorted. “You think?”

“Well I don’t know.”

“S’damn disrespectful,” John growled. “I told him to come down. We’re having _lunch_.”

Sam winced. “I’m gonna go up and just… talk to him. Maybe he’s, you know, tired or something.”

John made a noise of discontent, though Sam took it as being aimed at Dean and not at himself. “Good luck,” John grunted. 

Sam spared one last glance at Adam, who by now was looking entirely uncomfortable. “Thanks for lunch,” he told him softly. “It was very good.” Adam seemed to glow a little bit at the praise, but he avoided replying. Sam figured the kid was probably at a loss as to how to address him, now. “It’s just Sam,” he reminded warmly, before turning for the hallway to go upstairs. 

.oOo.

Sam hadn’t been around Dean in years, but it wasn’t hard to pick out the scent of angry, stressed out omega once he hit the upstairs hallway. He followed it to the third bedroom door and raised his hand to knock lightly. 

“What?” came a voice, one that Sam found himself taken-aback by but instantly drawn to. Dean’s voice had deepened since he’d seen him last.

“It’s me,” he said softly. “Sam.” No reply. Sam pushed lightly on the door, making it swing inwards to reveal the room.

Dean was laying down, sprawled across the room’s bed. Sam was instantly struck by how pretty he was. Not that he hadn’t been before, but at nineteen, the kid had matured into a handsome young man. Sam couldn’t help the way his eyebrows rose as he stared. Three years had done the boy good. His features were marred by the ugly look he shot Sam’s way. “Hey! I didn’t say you could come in.”

“Sorry,” Sam said. “I thought I’d come up and say hi. Thought maybe we could talk. …In private,” he added. He watched as Dean’s features softened briefly, then firmed back up into something obstinate. “John thought you might be feeling a little um, hesitant. To come downstairs that is.”

“Gee, ya think?”

Sam frowned. “Your brother made lunch.”

“Good for him. Happy little house omega,” Dean snapped. “And he’s not my brother.”

Sam crossed his arms, trying to figure out what to say. “I know that.” He took a step further into the room. Dean tensed and sat up in the bed, eyes wide as he watched Sam move. His scent was coming off nervous but… receptive. Hm, interesting. Sam tilted his head as he considered him, inhaling more thoughtfully this time. Dean smelled sweet and homey, like old fabric and pancake syrup. It made Sam’s skin prickle anxiously, and he wondered if maybe the kid was close to heat. “John says you’re not too happy about all of this,” he said, watching the omega’s expression carefully. “I know change isn’t easy.”

“Nobody asked me my opinion,” Dean replied. His green eyes were narrowed at about the level of Sam’s chest, not making eye contact. 

“It’s been talked about since you were fourteen,” Sam pointed out. “You knew. Your pack is dying. You need this.”

Dean’s jaw worked in frustration, though he offered no argument to that. “You’re blocking my car,” he wound up saying.

“Excuse me?”

“My car. You’ve got me parked in.” He nodded over to the bedroom window, where the driveway was visible below. “I need to get out of here and you’re blocking the way with that clown car of yours.”

Sam’s lips quirked. “It’s a rental.” He’d been trying to do the green thing, renting the hybrid with good gas mileage. Sam could see the scorn in Dean’s eyes. Kid must be into cars. “The Chevy?” he asked. “That yours?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a sweet ride.”

Dean scowled. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wasn’t.” Sam was unamused by the younger man’s attitude. “You should come on down and spend some time with us,” he said. “Your brother made lunch, and I suspect Bobby’s here for the occasion.” Dean grunted at him and got up from the bed. He went over to his desk and started grabbing things off it—a wallet, keys. “Dean? Come on. Let’s go.” 

Dean whirled around to face him. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“Oh?” Sam took a step closer, putting them toe-to-toe. He could see the way that Dean tensed, how his scent spiked when Sam bent down to nose at his jaw. “Tilt your head for me, Omega,” he murmured.

Dean jerked as if stung. “Not yet,” he hissed. “You just got here!”

Sam barked out a surprised laugh, he couldn’t help it. “I’m not going to mark you, Jesus. I just want your scent.”

Dean colored, but he straightened back up and bent his neck in a carefully measured show of submission. “Am I supposed to call you Alpha now?” he asked tersely.

“Sam’s fine for now,” Sam said, pressing his face against Dean’s neck and taking in the heady-sweet smell of him. Kid was definitely close to heat. “I’ll move my car when you come down and act like an adult,” he murmured into his skin. He could hear the younger man’s sharp inhale but was surprisingly met with no retort. Sam hummed in satisfaction. “Come on,” he said, turning for the door.

Downstairs, three surprised faces turned their way in the kitchen. John said, “Dean,” but was cut off.

“Don’t,” Dean grunted, pushing past the table and heading for the front door. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sam asked. “I’m not moving my car.”

“Not asking you to,” Dean threw back as he pushed past the front door and stomped out onto the porch. 

Sam shot John a questioning look, but the other man just shrugged and looked away. Bobby was watching everything with an exasperated air, and Adam was hunkering over his plate like it was the only thing he could see. Sam twisted his lips and patted him on the shoulder as he passed. “Take it easy, kid.”

Out on the front porch, he was greeted by the sight of Dean’s naked back. He was standing in the yard and stripping down unceremoniously. The pants and underwear went next. “You’re just gonna shift mid-cycle?” Sam asked, disapproving. “Day run? Alone?”

“Why not?” Dean was shoving all of his clothes through the open window of his car. He looked back at Sam. “Gonna stop me?”

Sam ground his teeth. In all honesty, he probably should. His wolf was itching underneath his skin, trying to get him to shift and take his mate by the scruff of the neck. “You guys don’t have negotiated lands for running,” he said instead, trying to keep his cool. “It’s not safe.”

Dean scoffed. “Don’t worry, _Alpha_ , I’m not going to run. Just getting the hell away from here.”

“Uh huh. And if you hit heat while you’re out?” Sam asked. It was blunt, but he had a feeling that’s what he’d need to be with this kid. He watched in mild satisfaction as Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. “Shifting can trigger it,” Sam pointed out. 

“I _know_ that,” Dean hissed. He turned back away and stalked around to the other side of the Impala. He crouched down out of sight. “Just leave me alone,” he said, voice sounding just a little bit more resigned than it had a moment ago. 

There were things Sam wanted to say to that, of course, but he kept them to himself. No point, he thought. He knew what Dean was doing down behind the barrier of the car right now. He chose to stand on the porch, waiting long minutes until he could be fairly sure that the other man’s shift was complete. “Don’t go far,” he called out. “And stay away from people.”

The only answer he got was a brief glance from the tawny wolf that appeared from behind the car seconds later. Sam stared, appreciating the grace of Dean’s wolf, how it looked like him even when it didn’t. Light fur and green eyes—werewolves weren’t like their animal counterparts; they didn’t always look like natural wolves. Dean was small in his other form, but he held himself erect. He pulled his upper lip up, baring his canines in a silent snarl, before turning around and bounding off into the nearby tree line. Sam sighed as he watched him go.

He startled a little when he turned around and saw that Bobby was on the porch, watching him. Bobby’s lips were twisted wryly. “You mind telling me what took you so long?” he asked.

Sam frowned. “Huh?”

“Oh come on,” Bobby scowled. He flung his hand out towards the direction in which Dean had gone. “You’ve been slated to mate that boy since he was fourteen.” Bobby sounded disgusted as he said it. “What the hell was so important that you had to wait till he was this bad off?”

“Bad off?” Sam crossed his arms, not liking how Bobby was coming at him over this. “Look, I wasn’t going to mate any fourteen-year-old.”

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen?” Sam shook his head and Bobby snarled. “You’ve spent too much time around humans,” he said. “Think too much like ‘em. Now look what you’re stuck with.” When it was clear that Sam wasn’t sure what he was talking about, Bobby huffed and added, “The boy’s angry, defiant. He’s turned into a damn troublemaker that won’t submit to anyone.” Bobby shot him a dirty look. “Boy hasn’t gotten anything he needs and now he’s all warped. That’s your fault.”

“I had things I wanted, too,” Sam defended. “I came as soon as I got my foot in at a good law firm.”

Bobby scoffed. “Aw, well isn’t that great. Mr. Fancy Lawyer.”

“It’s important.”

“Well just so you’re clued in, while you were taking your good old time with your schoolin’ and your lawyerin’, our pack omega was out here, getting more restless and outta control.”

“What are you talking about?”

“John must’ve told you? Kid’s been getting worse every year. Running out, drinking, sluttin’ around with those damn motorcycle gangs,”

“What?!”

Bobby glared at him. “Oh, now you’re interested?”

Sam huffed and uncrossed his arms, raking one hand through his hair in stress. He glanced back towards where Dean had disappeared into the woods. “John didn’t say anything.” That wasn’t entirely true. The other alpha had mentioned Dean’s attitude and behavioral problems over the years. But he’d never made it sound like… “He’s putting himself in danger?” Sam asked.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Bobby looked angrily at him. “He’s out shooting pool in bars with strange wolves. Where the _hell_ do you think that leads, huh?” Bobby scoffed and shook his head. “Last thing we need is the pack omega getting knocked up by some trouble-making stray! He’s putting everyone in danger. Kid doesn’t appreciate his position in this pack, doesn’t realize what it means.”

Sam growled, only this time it was long and low—his wolf coming to the surface. He felt the urge to shift, to take his clothes off and huddle down low until his skin and bones rearranged themselves into the shape that would let him chase down his mate. He had to grit his teeth to fight back the urge. Glancing back to the tree line, he said, “Where does he usually go?”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, and just at that moment, John came out onto the porch. The look on his face said that he knew what they’d been discussing. “He shift?”

Both Sam and Bobby nodded.

John grunted in annoyance. “He should be safe.”

“Should be?” Sam asked dubiously. 

“I’ve tracked him once or twice. There’s a place out in the woods he goes, a den.”

Sam didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “He has a _den_ out there?” Most omegas didn’t look for dens out in nature unless they were mated. Such places were for nesting, for riding out heats with mates, for having pups. It set Sam’s teeth on edge, thinking of Dean in such a place by himself. Or worse—with some other wolf. “Who?” Sam asked darkly, sure that this meant that Dean had been intimate with another. Sleeping around with strange bikers was very different from denning up and sharing a heat with another wolf. Sam fought to keep from yelling out when he wasn’t immediately answered. “Who?!”

Bobby flinched but John remained calm. “Relax. It’s not like he went out and made it himself. It’s an old spot. Pack used to use it all the time, but most people don’t even know it exists anymore. Dean found it years ago, says he goes there to be alone, clear his mind.”

Sam calmed a little at hearing that. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“But um,” Sam fidgeted, not knowing a delicate way to ask, “He’s… he smelled pretty close, up in his room.” He watched the way that John colored and Bobby looked away. “He won’t go looking, for someone?” _For someone to satisfy him through his heat_ , went unsaid. Sam hated to talk about this and he was sure it was the _last_ thing Dean’s adoptive father wanted to think about, but even someone as understanding as Sam had a possessive side. He needed to know. “John?”

“He’s never paired with anyone, s’far as I can tell,” John gruffed out. His face was pinched in discomfort. “I gave him the talk, best I could anyways. He knows what he needs to.”

“Okay. Good.”

The three of them were quiet then, awkward after having just discussed how their pack omega liked to spend his heats. Bobby cleared his throat. “Uh, John, you want to get me home?” John nodded and then the two of them headed down to the driveway. 

“I’ll be back in a bit,” John called back. “Don’t feel like you have to go after him. He’ll be fine.” 

Sam nodded and watched as John helped Bobby up into the truck, then stowed his wheelchair in the back. He waited until the truck was inching down the driveway before he called out and said, “I might head back to the motel for the night. Bobby it was nice meeting you!” He waved to make it final and could see Bobby’s nod and John’s disapproving expression as the truck continued backing up, too far away for John to be able to offer much of an argument to the decision. Sam felt relieved as he watched them go. Now he wouldn’t be roped into bedding down at the Winchester’s house. Sam was worried about how he would fare, having to take the guest bedroom right next to Dean’s room when he was in heat. That was if the kid even came back before it was over. 

Sam turned and went back into the house. He found Adam in the kitchen, cleaning up from lunch. The teenager gave him a respectful nod as he came in and Sam couldn’t help but to smile. He liked Dean’s little brother on instinct. The kid seemed sweet, eager to please. “Hey,” Sam said, leaning against the wall and watching as Adam loaded dishes into the dishwasher. “Anything I can help with?”

Adam’s eyes widened and he frowned. “No.”

Sam laughed. “Okay, just checking. Hey,” he paused and tried to think of the best way to ask his question, sure that it would embarrass the younger man. “So… your brother,”

“Is an asshole,” Adam murmured. It was quiet, but definitely meant for Sam to hear. 

Sam chuckled. “Uh, well that remains to be seen. But um, I’m kinda worried about him. Does he usually run off when he’s, uh… when it’s his time?” Sam could see it as Adam flushed at the question, but he was quick to nod in answer. “I see,” Sam said. “Well I just wanted to know, does he stay out the whole time?” Sam hoped not. As bad as having to be around Dean and remain impartial to his heat scent might be, not knowing what he was doing out in the wild for days on end would be worse. Sam wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself from tracking him down. “Adam?” he asked.

“No,” Adam said. “No he comes back. He probably just ran out because you were here.” Nervously, his eyes flicked up to Sam’s. “He’ll come back. Probably tonight.”

That made Sam feel a lot better. He inhaled deeply. “Okay. Thanks Adam.”

He nodded tightly, then went back to moving about the kitchen, putting things away. He paused when he’d scooped up all the potato salad into a container and was about to put it in the fridge. “Oh, um… dad said you might be staying at the motel. Did you want to take some with you?” He gestured with the Tupperware.

Sam smiled and shook his head. “Naw, but thanks. I’d just wind up stress eating it all tonight, and that stuff’s always better on the second day.” He winked. “I’ll be by tomorrow to have some more.” That seemed to cheer Adam up nicely, and Sam said goodbye and headed for the door. 

.oOo.

It was a short drive back to the motel. Before bed, Sam answered a bunch of emails from his work. He’d negotiated time off for this trip, but the fact remained that he was a new face at the firm. He’d have to keep up with cases and company happenings even while he was away, if he wanted to do well at his job. And he did.

The way Bobby had talked to him about his job hadn’t sat well with Sam, though he’d pushed past his offense at the time. Now, he wondered if that was how others in the El Paso pack felt about his career ambitions. Sam had never thought he’d been placing anything ahead of his duties as pack Alpha. Or, at least not _that_ far ahead. Some omegas were ready to be mated younger, but it’d been pretty clear that Dean wasn’t one of them. That’s what Sam had told himself when he’d gone off to college, when he’d switched his major to pre-law halfway through undergrad, and then when he’d applied to law school. Even when he’d taken the position at the firm last year, he’d told himself it would be alright, that another year wouldn’t hurt anything, the wolves in El Paso would make do and Dean would get a little more time before…

Sam slumped at the motel’s tiny two-seater table, stalled in answering his emails. _Shit_ , he thought. What if he’d just been lying to himself all along? What if he’d been using Dean’s moody teenage personality as an excuse to justify putting this merge off? Had the El Paso pack really been struggling that badly these past couple of years? 

Sam thought about it, picturing the dusty road he’d traversed into town; the sad, beaten-down sorts of businesses that clung to the main road; the unkempt trailers and doublewides that provided housing to the pack members who hadn’t yet scattered to the wind. Sam sighed, his eyes slipping shut as he felt discouragement flood himself. God, he hoped he hadn’t done the wrong thing in waiting so long. 

But he shook his head after a moment of feeling sorry for himself. There was no turning back now. He would just have to do his best for these people, offer what help he could, and mend the tenuous relationship he now had with John and Bobby and, most importantly, Dean. He could only do what he could do. 

He was extra tired by the time the sun went down. He shut his laptop and went to take a shower, dried off and slipped into bed naked. Unlike the motel he’d stayed in the night previous, the _Blue Star_ was clearly were-owned, as the sheets had been so stringently laundered as to smell neutral (the ones in Marfa had not). Sam fell asleep within minutes of laying his head on the pillow, and proceeded to have all sorts of weird dreams about his new pack, his new mate, and a convoluted legal case involving potato salad.


	2. Blackberry-Thyme Pie

There are certain questions that, when asked, unite people. Humans ask each other about 9/11, about Kennedy being shot. The collective, _“Where were you when…”_ question that everyone understands. _Where were you when the world turned upside down?_ Everyone over a certain age has an answer. Werewolves have their own version. 

_“Where were you when the humans found out?”_ is how it’s most commonly phrased. 

Sam was sixteen and sitting in the middle of geometry class, when the national news broke the story of a man going furry in a federal penitentiary, when the headlines suddenly read “Monsters are Real,” and “Wolves are Among Us,” and “How Many are There?” He’d been a lanky, lazy teenager when the teacher had stopped teaching and turned on the news; twenty-seven seconds of grainy cctv footage from a prison cell block in Indiana. The video had flashed across America’s tv screens for weeks on end. A famous news-anchor with too much schooling for his own good had dug out the word, “Anagnorisis,” and it’d stuck. 

The packs had panicked. Half of San Antonio had driven out to El Paso so that Alpha Winchester and Alpha Ackles could figure out what the hell they were going to do. School was out for the summer, and Sam went along.

 _“What does it mean?”_ Dean, then eight, had whisper-asked him as they hid in the Ackles’ family room, one room over from where the senior pack members—both of their fathers included—were arguing quietly. Sam had been tasked with keeping Dean out of the way while important pack decisions were made. “Sam?”

“I dunno,” Sam said. But Dean hadn’t left it alone until Sam went to the Ackles’ family computer and googled the word. “‘A moment in a plot or story when a character makes a critical discovery’,” Sam recited as he read. “Greek, for recognition.”

Dean pouted, bored by the definition. “Why won’t they let me watch tv?” he asked instead, whining.

Sam sighed. Long-term babysitting was not his idea of a cool way to spend summer vacation, but ever since the news broke a week ago, it seemed like that’s exactly what he’d be doing for the foreseeable future. Alpha Ackles and his dad weren’t exactly in agreement about what to do, after all. Sam could hear them through the door at times when their whispers grew too heated.

_“Other packs are already talking to the media. How long until somebody mentions us, huh? If we’re going to be outed, better we do it ourselves.”_

_“No. We need to stay under the radar. Think of the kids! They’re in school with humans. We do business with humans. We can’t afford—”_

Sam startled when he heard the tv click on, the voices of newscasters and commentators snapping to life. He whipped around and grabbed the remote out of Dean’s hands, hurriedly jabbing the off button.

“Hey!”

“No,” Sam grunted. He tossed the remote to the other end of the couch.

“I’m not a baby!” Dean yelled.

“You kinda are,” Sam said. “And shh. Be quiet.” He didn’t want to have one of the adults poking their heads in and yelling at him because he couldn’t keep one nosy pup quiet. “Trust me, you don’t want to see what they’re saying on the news.” Or what they were showing. The choppy, black and white video of that werewolf being splattered against the wall of a cell block, his dead body being lightly kicked by the steel-toed boots of the scared shitless prison guards. Sam himself was kind of sorry he’d seen the video as many times as he had.

_The footage we’re about to show you may be disturbing to some viewers._

Yeah, no kidding.

“Just… trust me,” Sam said again. He pulled Dean’s little body up onto the couch with him, laid them both out lengthwise. He nosed into the kid’s hair kindly. “You wouldn’t like it.”

Dean was quiet for a long minute, then he said meekly, “They’re angry, aren’t they?”

“They’re scared.”

“I’m not stupid,” Dean whispered. “People are… they’re yelling. They’re saying mean things, starting fires.”

Sam clenched his jaw, figured that ‘fires’ referred to the arsons that’d happed at a few werewolf homes and businesses in other packs that had already revealed themselves. It had all been well-televised in the past week, so Sam figured Dean had snuck in some illicit tv time after all. Sam felt a sudden wave of sadness come over him at the obvious worry in Dean’s voice. He was just a little kid. He shouldn’t have to be worrying about things like this. He shouldn’t even know about it. 

“People do mean things when they’re scared,” he told him, careful to keep his voice calm. He just wanted to protect Dean from all of the ugliness that was happening, and which—no matter what route their pack leaders decided to take—would eventually be directed at them. Sam didn’t have a clue what they’d do then. “You don’t have to worry,” he lied. “We’re safe here. Our dads are good Alphas. They’ll keep us safe.”

Sam would never forget the way that Dean calmed and snuggled into him, so easily reassured. So trusting. “Promise?” he asked around a yawn.

“I…” Sam didn’t have the heart to tell the truth, so he lied again. “Yeah. I promise.” 

.oOo.

Sam woke up early the next morning and went out for a jog. He surveyed the town that way, making a circuit down the main road, around past the high school and further back by the trailer park. taking everything in. After his run he grabbed a cup of coffee at the diner and loitered along the sidewalk as he sipped it. There were more than a few empty storefronts that he could distinctly remember not having been boarded up, years ago. Seeing it made him sad. It wasn’t like this in San Antonio.

After the initial lash-out following the _anagnorisis_ , things hadn’t been so bad. Were-owned businesses recovered, sometimes even doing well. It was all a matter of presentation, as well as location. _Paul, Texas_. was not a good location. It was small and out of the way, leaving it forgotten half of the time, and vulnerable to prejudice from passers-by the rest. Sam sat on a park bench for a little bit and watched the cars that drove through town without stopping, headed in the direction of the city. He sighed.

If only Alpha Ackles had sided with Sam’s dad. If only the El Paso wolves had revealed themselves early on, created their own narrative about who and what they were, what they stood for… 

But that wasn’t what had happened. While Sam and his family and friends took measured steps to assimilate, the wolves out west had kept hidden until people—the wrong people—outed them. Then they’d gotten the push back. Ackles had been killed in a tragic but unsurprising attack, and the pack had been forced out to Paul. 

Sam finished his coffee and threw it away in one of the park’s trash cans. He started back in the direction of the motel, thinking that he’d shower and drive over to John’s place soon. He needed to talk more in-depth today about setting up a forum for the pack members to come out and ask questions. Sam also really, really needed to get over to the Winchester house to make sure that Dean had come home safe last night. He wouldn’t be able to focus on anything productive until then. 

It was as he was crossing the motel parking lot and pulling his room key out of his pocket that he was approached by the two smokers who were staying next door. 

“Hey,” the man said. Not very eloquent, but Sam was unsurprised. The pair—a man and a woman—didn’t look the eloquent type.  
Sam tried to keep a friendly face. “Morning. You two travelling through town?”

“You’re the new Alpha?” This from the woman. She had faint creases around her mouth that made her look no-nonsense.  
Sam straightened up, trying to get a scent from the air but coming up with only stale cigarettes. “I am,” he said, firm but calm. “Who are you?”

“I’m Trina.” The woman jabbed her thumb at her friend. “That’s Mike.”

Sam nodded. “Nice to meet you. So you’re pack?” 

Trina straightened up and gave an unfriendly smirk. “Not yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re from Arkansas,” she said.

“Oh.” That didn’t please Sam. There was no reason for two lone wolves from so far away to be visiting like this. He figured that they must be strays. “I take it you weren’t invited, then.”

“We need an invitation to be here?” Mike asked. 

Sam glared at them and they each averted their eyes in an unconscious, submissive reaction. Their eyes quickly came back, but Sam pegged them as betas after all. “As long as you don’t linger,” he said. “This pack’s had enough trouble without strays coming through and trying to make trouble.”

Mike looked pissed off. “John Winchester’s got your pack omega with him, don’t he?” he said. 

Sam stiffened. “Why are you asking about that?”

“Kid’s got a reputation. And we hear he’s real pretty, too.”

A tremor ran under Sam’s skin. To any human it might look like he was shivering, but what it really was, was his wolf raising its hackles. “So?” he said, tone finally as unfriendly as these two strangers’.

Trina shrugged and crossed her arms. “I heard he ain’t mated. Ain’t even interested in _you_.”

“I don’t really care what you heard,” Sam snapped. “I’d advise you to stop taking such an interest.”

“Fair game’s fair game,” Mike said. “People have been taking shots at him forever. And if all these losers are willing to follow the first wolf to mate him then we figured maybe we should give it a go.” He shrugged. “I could use some pack income. Trina could, too.”

“We heard you were coming in. Thought we’d see what sort of claim you really have on the kid.” 

Mike smirked. “Turns out, none.”

Sam couldn’t help it, he growled. And not the sort of sound that a human could make. It was low and animalistic and meant to intimidate. He pulled himself up to his full height and took a threatening step forward. Mike jumped back but Trina held her ground, albeit nervously. The very first hint of her scent peeked through the cigarette smell, and Sam reassessed that she might actually be alpha. He curled his lip at her. “Any reason why you’re standing here baiting me?” he asked. “Because as it stands, all you’re doing is setting yourself up for a real nasty fight.” Sam wasn’t a fan of day shifting, especially in motel parking lots in full view of the public. But he’d do it if he needed to. When Trina didn’t immediately rise to challenge his dominance again, he said, “I’ll make this clear with words, once. After that it’ll be teeth.” Trina’s nostrils flared. “The Ackles omega is _mine_. If you touch him, I’ll maim you at best, kill you at worst. I _AM_ the Alpha here, this pack isn’t taking applications from out-of-state hillbilly strays, and nobody is leaving Paul just because I say so.”

Trina looked like she was actually taking in his words, which was good. Unfortunately, she also looked like she was contemplating taking Sam up on his offer of a fight. That was something few weres were ever stupid enough to do. Sam hadn’t had to put a beat down on someone since he was in undergrad. His father had taught him how to showcase his dominance without resorting to such measures. He scoffed at Trina’s growing challenge. “Don’t even. I’d tear you apart and you know it.” 

Her lips tightened and her hands curled in frustration, but there was reluctant recognition in her eyes as well. Her lips quivered, like she wanted to bare her teeth and was only just managing not to.

Because of their pheromones and subtle behavioral cues, werewolves had the uncanny ability to sense dominance in one another; to threaten, to push and pull and come to silent agreement with nothing more than eye contact and flaring nostrils. It was an extremely integral part of their social system, perhaps the most important. To humans it just made them look like overreactive hotheads, but there was a complex silent language behind it. Sam knew his wolf was enough to scare the piss out of almost anyone else if he pressed his dominance, he just hoped these two morons would be able to accept it without him having to shift. “How long is your room paid up for?” he asked tightly.

Trina turned away—probably her way out of having to lower her eyes or bare her neck. It was Mike who answered, “Tomorrow.”

“Good.” Sam nodded. “Be gone by then. I don’t want to see you around, you hear me?” A low growling sound was coming from Trina, but she didn’t turn back around to face him. All of her back muscles were tensed through her teeshirt. Sam frowned heavily, thinking that either she really was very stupid, or else nobody had ever bothered to school her on pack order. “Do you hear me?!” he asked, not quite yelling.

“Yes!” She hissed. She shot a glare over her shoulder at him, then grabbed Mike by the sleeve and tugged to get him following her. They went over to a car and got in, and Sam stood there and kept firm eye contact with them as they pulled out onto the road and sped away. 

He released a long breath once the car was out of sight. “Fuck,” he murmured. He had a bad feeling about those two. They weren’t anything Sam couldn’t personally handle, but he did worry about Dean running into them… Twisting his lips, he glanced over at the strays’ motel room door. He considered breaking in and scent-marking everything inside, all their personal possessions and the furniture. It’d piss an alpha like Trina the hell off, but it would definitely reinforce the message. Would probably even drive them out of town all the faster.

Mind made up, Sam set out to figure out a way to pick the lock and get into the other wolves’ room. If he was quick about things, he could probably make it to John’s house by lunchtime again. 

.oOo.

When he got to the Winchester's house, Adam was the only one home. He answered the door wearing a big, flowery apron and a smile. Sam couldn’t help but to smile back. The kid’s happiness was infectious. “What?” he half laughed as he followed Adam inside. One glance around the kitchen and it was obvious that baking had been happening. Sam _moaned_ at the smells that assaulted him. “Fuuck.” Adam looked over his shoulder, still grinning but with an eyebrow raised. Sam blushed. “Uh, sorry.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Sam nodded and took a more thorough look around the kitchen. It was a mess. Flour and dishes and ingredients everywhere. He spotted half an eggshell underfoot and picked it up, tossing it into the trashcan. “So are you going to tell me what smells so good?”

“Pie,” Adam answered. “Three kinds: apple, lemon meringue and berry.”

Sam groaned. “Christ. You trying to kill me?”

Adam snickered. “It wasn’t my idea. Dean’s a pie fanatic. He asked. Said he was craving—” he paused, eyes flicking more carefully to Sam’s. “Well, he can never make up his mind. About pie.”

“I see.” Sam lifted his nose, attempting to scent the house through the smell of dough and caramelized sugar. It wasn’t easy. “Is he here?”

“No, but he came home. Last night.”

Sam felt his stomach untwist from a knot he hadn’t known it was in. “Oh,” he breathed, relieved. “Good.” His anxiety settled somewhat and he walked over to where the three pies were cooling. “These look great.”

“Don’t touch,” Adam warned.

Sam stuck his finger in one of them anyway, just to hear Adam squawk. He chuckled, bringing his finger up to his mouth to lick the berry juices off it. _Holy Shit_. “Where is he now?” he asked.

“Dean? He’s at work.”

“The daycare?”

Adam rolled his eyes like he thought Sam was a fool. “No. He’s down at Carl’s Automotive.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “He fixes cars now?”

“I guess.” Adam sounded disinterested. “Dad’s out at Bobby’s. Said he’d be home soon.”

Sam’s mind was still kind of fixed on the revelation that his mate was working as a mechanic. “Um, do you care if I go up to his room?” Sam asked.

“To do what? Snoop around?” 

Sam flushed, but one glance at Adam showed the younger man was unaffected. “I was going to say: to do some research.” He shifted in place uncomfortably. “It’s not like I know him anymore.” 

“Did you ever?” 

“I—” 

Adam shrugged at the sink, hands elbow deep in dishwater. “Go nuts. I won’t tell. Your scent will totally give you away though.”

 _I know_ , Sam thought but didn’t say. Instead he just said, “…Thanks,” and went upstairs. 

Inside Dean’s room, he closed the door behind himself and leant against it for a moment. He inhaled, taking in the smell of omega that was so deeply ingrained in the room, Sam doubted it’d ever come out if the Winchesters decided to move and sell the house. It was a nice smell, Sam thought. Aside from the cloying preheat scent that clung like a thin film at the surface, there were older, deeper levels of Dean’s scent that had permeated the nooks and crannies of the room. Sam was sorely tempted to lay down on the threadbare rug and rub his nose against it. He resisted.

Instead, he walked over to the bed and sat down. It was just a little twin bed—the only thing that really made sense in the small farmhouse bedroom. It _reeked_ of Dean. This time Sam didn’t resist leaning down and stuffing his face into the pillow, taking a deep inhale like he was seeking out a drug. He exhaled and groaned, pulling away. 

He definitely shouldn’t have kept such a distance these past years.

It’s not like they were fated to be mates or anything. Dean smelled just as good to Sam as any other young, fertile omega might’ve. The match between them was strategic, not romantic and certainly not biologically predetermined. There were other wolves Sam could’ve mated, but the thing was… he didn’t want to. 

Despite outer appearances, Dean’s wolf was just as much of a standout as Sam’s was—just as strongly submissive as Sam’s was dominant. It wasn't a weak vs. strong thing, like any human might assume, but rather a strong vs. strong thing. The two of them were well-matched. It’d been obvious to Sam ever since he came back to Paul the summer that Dean turned sixteen. Before that, their mating had been an idea. After, it’d been a certainty. Sam was pretty sure he’d left Dean unsure and confused after that visit. None of his letters or phone calls were answered after that. It’d been the last time the two of them had any contact. Sam the human might’ve been able to leave Dean alone, but his wolf would have none of it. 

He pulled his face back up from the pillow, knowing he’d thoroughly scent-marked it and that Dean would undoubtedly be pissed off. _Oh well,_ Sam thought. It was an appropriate gesture. Dean needed to be reassured of his place in the pack if he was ever going to calm down and stop acting out. 

Dean kept a tidy room, though Sam suspected that might’ve had more to do with the kid’s lack of possessions than anything else. The clothes in the closet were practical rather than fashionable, and there weren’t many. Jeans and tees, denim button-downs and a couple of lightweight jackets. Work boots. Sam shut the closet door. 

There was a bookcase that was half-full with paperback novels and half with old cassette tapes and records. Sam didn’t see a turntable anywhere, but the records were all classic rock. His lips twitched as he skimmed the titles, saw that _Cheap Trick_ and _Blondie_ were in the mix. The bottom shelf was eaten up by heavier dog-eared textbooks and binders. Sam bent down and saw that they were high school books. Curious, he pulled one of the binders out and skimmed through it. There were records of Dean’s grades, his courses. Sam’s brow grew increasingly furrowed as he made sense of it all.

There weren’t any records past what would’ve been Dean’s junior year. Sam felt himself frowning as he realized that Dean had probably dropped out of high school. He huffed and sank down into the desk chair, reading over the report cards. All C’s until Junior year, then suddenly nothing but A’s. The school had started Dean on the obligatory track for his designation that year. Sam’s eyes skimmed over the homemaking and childrearing classes, the segregated health class. _A’s_.

The poor marks in math and science had done a one-eighty as well. Dean’s GPA had sky-rocketed. Sam gulped as he spotted a few college pamphlets stuffed into the back pocket of the binder. But there were no records to indicate a senior year had ever taken place. 

Sighing, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number of the high school guidance counselor that was printed on the transcripts. The phone rang twice before the call was picked up.

_“Wylie-Davis High School, guidance office. This is Shawna, how can I help you?”_

“Um, hi. My name’s Sam Winchester. I’m calling about one of your former students. A Dean Winchester-er, Ackles. Was hoping you could answer a couple of questions for me.”

Typing noises over the other end of the line. _“What questions?”_

“Do you have his complete transcripts?”

Silence for a few seconds, and then, _“Oh, I’m sorry Sir. We can only release academic records to the graduates themselves, or to parents of minors. It says here Mr. Ackles has aged out of the system so I can’t—”_

“I’m his Alpha,” Sam said, injecting authority into his tone and hoping that a human guidance counselor’s ignorance of werewolf culture would be enough to get him a free pass on information.

 _“Oh… Oh!”_ The woman gave an embarrassed chuckle. _“Sorry, yes. Now I see that he was in our Specials classes for the uh… the um...”_

Sam rolled his eyes. He could only imagine how pathetic and underfunded the government-mandated werewolf education track was in a place like _Paul_. “Yes I saw that. What I want to know is what happened his senior year,” he said.

Shawna hummed. _“Well it looks like he didn’t come back after his sixth semester. Or… oh wait. No, he did come back. He registered for classes at least. But it looks like he stopped attendance after the first week or so of the quarter.”_ She hummed in concern and clacked on her computer some more. _“Oh.”_

“What?”

_“Well the counselor assigned to work with him wrote some notes in his file.”_

Sam frowned. “What notes?”

 _“He’d been having problems with fighting,”_ she said. _“Says he was suspended several times his junior year, and then threatened with expulsion at the very beginning of the next semester.”_

“What? Why?” Sam huffed. “That makes no sense. His grades were amazing.”

 _“Hm, yes they were. Well I’ll be darned, that’s strange.”_ The woman’s confused chuckle irritated the hell out of Sam. _“Sorry, I wasn’t working here then,”_ she said. _“I’m just going off the notes, here.”_

“Does it say who he was fighting with?”

_“Mm, no. Just says here that he instigated several physical altercations where other students wound up injured.”_

“Injured?”

_“M’yep. That’s all it says. Whatever happened, it looks like he got the blame.”_

Sam could imagine what the segregation at _Wylie-Davis High_ must look like. He imagined bullies, picking on one of the only were-track kids in the omega classes. “The other students he hurt; they were human, weren’t they?” Sam guessed.

 _“No. They were in the Specials program along with Dean,”_ the woman said, shocking Sam. What reason would Dean have had to suddenly start fighting with his own kind? And so badly that he dropped out?

“So he _was_ expelled,” Sam said.

 _“No. He just stopped coming to classes.”_ Shawna hummed thoughtfully as she examined her files. Based on the audibility of the clacking, Sam thought that she must’ve had long nails, probably acrylic. _“Looks like… yeah. We sent a social worker out, but nothing came of it. I’m sorry but that’s all I’ve got on him. The notes end there. Would you like me to email you the information we discussed, Alpha Winchester?”_ She was back to using her friendly-professional voice, full-force now.

Sam winced and refrained from telling her that humans really didn’t need to address them by their designation titles. “No. It’s fine. You’ve been, uh, helpful. Thanks.” 

After the call cut off, Sam was left to wonder what the heck could have happened to make Dean quit school when he’d been doing so well. He decided that he’d ask him later. He continued to root through Dean’s things, somewhat convinced he’d turn up porn (hilarious) or drugs (not), but he found neither. It was only when he found what was clearly a diary shoved into the back of one of the desk drawers that Sam decided to call it quits. He couldn’t bring himself to read through Dean’s diary. He just couldn’t. Werewolves might had a severe lack of boundaries, but Sam was still half human. He gently placed the diary back where he’d found it. 

It was the sound of a throat clearing that alerted him to another’s presence. He straightened up in the desk chair and looked over his shoulder to see John standing in the doorway. “Oh,” he said, relieved that it wasn’t Dean. “Hey.”

“Hey.” John’s eyes surveyed him knowingly. He was wearing coveralls over his clothes and Sam remembered that he helped out at Bobby’s old salvage yard since the man’s injury, years ago. “Came home for lunch,” John said. “You?”

Sam stood and walked over. “I wanted to talk to Dean, actually.”

“He won’t like that you were in here.”

“Course he won’t. But you and I both know he needs to know I was.”

John grunted in a way that meant he agreed. “He doesn’t usually come home for lunch when he’s working. If you want to take him some of Adam’s pie, coax him into talking, feel free.”

Sam perked up, liking the idea. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah maybe I will.” He trailed after John as the other man went downstairs. “Adam said pie is Dean’s favorite.”

John snorted. “You’re darn right.” In the kitchen he nodded at Adam. “Box some of the apple up. Sam’s gonna take it to the garage.”

Adam frowned, though he did start moving to follow John's orders. “He should come home if he really wants some,” he muttered. “No reason Sam should have to hoof it across town to deliver this to _his Highness_.” Sam suppressed a slight grin, thinking that it was cute how Adam obviously competed with his adopted brother. “I’m the one who made it,” Adam grumped. 

“Could you pack me a slice of the berry?” Sam asked. “I only got the one taste, but it was really good. Don’t think I’ve ever tasted berry pie quite like that. There’s something to it…”

“Thyme,” Adam said proudly. “Just a little; in the crust, mixed with the berries while they’re cooking. It enhances the flavors.”

“Huh.” Sam nodded. “Never would’ve known.”

“That’s the idea.” 

Sam smiled. “Right. Well pack ‘em up kid.”

Adam handed over two foil and plastic-wrapped pieces of pie, and John saw him out onto the front porch. “Here,” he said, stuffing two twenty-dollar bills into Sam’s palm in place of a handshake. Sam shook his head and tried to give it back but was refused. “Buy him lunch,” John insisted. “At the diner in town. If you really want to get him to talk to you, he won’t open up in front of his buddies at the garage, and he sure as hell won’t say a word here at home.” John nodded firmly. “Take him out, make the gesture. It’ll help.”

Sam really, really hoped so. He closed his fingers around the bills and shoved them in his jeans pocket. “Okay. Thanks.”

.oOo.

 _Carl’s Automotive_ was the only garage in town, attached to one of the two gas stations on the main road. Sam found it easily and he walked into the work bay, rather than the office where customers were supposed to go. There was a radio playing quietly in the garage, providing background music to the occasional whir of power tool and clank of metal. Sam scanned the bay, eyes coming to rest on the lower torso and legs of Dean where he was laying underneath a car. Sam only knew it was him because of his scent, and even that was a weak thing underneath all the motor oil and grease. “Hey,” he said, letting his voice alert the other wolf to his presence.

Dean’s torso stilled, his arms stopped in their motions underneath the vehicle. A long pause, and then he was rolling smoothly out from underneath the car. His green eyes were already narrowed, and Sam was struck all over again by how much the summer sun bleached out the kid’s hair. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. His mean look might’ve been more effective if he didn’t have such pretty features. Grease smear-over-freckles-over-almost but not-quite-straight nose. It was incredibly endearing. Also, Sam was sure he’d get his offer of lunch rejected if he commented on it.

He grinned and held up the two lumpy bundles of foil and plastic wrap. “Pie. Thought I’d come bribe you to have lunch with me.” 

Dean, for all of his machismo, spent a second looking surprised, and then pleased. “What kind of pie?” he asked warily. 

Sam smiled even wider. He toed at the wheel of the creeper, jostling Dean where he lay. “Come on, please? I thought we could go to the diner.”

Dean twisted his lips, but he scooted out further and sat up on the creeper. He pulled a rag from one of his pockets—coveralls, tied around his waist by the arms. It was a good look on him—and wiped his hands off. “I have to ask my boss,” he said. And hey, even if he didn’t sound thrilled, at least he was going along with it. Sam counted it as a win.

He waited while Dean went into the back office and spoke with someone, then returned. The coveralls had been shed, leaving him in his jeans and black tee shirt. Sam let his eyes rove up and down Dean’s body appreciatively. He snapped out of it though when Dean tried reaching for the pie. “Nope,” he said, yanking it away. “They’re for dessert.”

Dean grunted but didn’t argue. He moved for the bay door. “Well come on, then.”

“Wait.”

Dean turned, confused. Sam stepped up close to him, cradling both pieces of pie in his left hand so that he could reach up and thumb at the streak of grease on Dean’s face. It went from the bridge of his nose all the way to one cheekbone, and by the time Sam had it all cleared off, he saw that Dean’s eyes had frozen on him, his pupils expanded and lips parted just the barest bit. Suddenly, Sam could smell him a little better through all the motor oil. “You had dirt,” he said quietly, though it was more than obvious at that point. 

“…Thanks,” Dean said slowly. “Um… diner’s this way.” He canted his head, then finally turned and broke their eye contact as he led the way out of the garage and down the sidewalk.

.oOo.

The _Blue Star_ diner was probably the most picturesque place in Paul that Sam had seen yet. He remarked on it, once he and Dean had been seated in one off its vinyl booths. “This is cute,” he said.

“I guess.”

Sam tried to relax back into his seat, act nonchalant in the hopes that the younger man would relax as well. “So you work at the garage.”

A silent nod.

“Full time?”

“Just about. Summertime there’re lots of travelers passing through, vacationing. Things break down, need fixing.” Dean fiddled with the saltshaker. He peeked at Sam. “How about you? Are you finally a lawyer?”

Sam tried not to smile too big, overly-happy that Dean was asking about him, initiating conversation. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, finally.” He tilted his head. “I wrote you, you know.” He’d given up on the phone calls long ago. “You never answered.”

Dean seemed to freeze, caught out. “Well… I dunno.” He grabbed the pepper shaker and stated knocking it against the salt. “But you are? A lawyer now?”

“Yeah. I work for a firm that specializes in were-related cases.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose as he paid closer attention. “Fighting for our rights?”

Sam smiled. “Occasionally. But mostly I’m a defense lawyer. We get accused off a lot of stuff, you know? And even when a wolf is guilty, the punishment is often unfairly harsh.” He watched Dean nod unhappily, then dared to add, “I also assist on a lot of hate crimes cases. Instances where wolves have been attacked, hurt.” He watched Dean carefully, noting his reactions. “…Like your dad, and Bobby.”

Dean nodded tightly, like he didn’t want to continue discussing it. “Good,” he said. He pulled out one of the menus and unfolded it, starting to read from its plastic pages. “I’m glad.”

Sam figured that meant the topic was over. He bit his lip and nodded to himself, reaching for a menu of his own. He noted the design on the front with the diner’s logo. _Blue Star_. He traced it with his finger and said, “The motel I’m at has the same name.”

Dean nodded, not pulling his eyes up from his menu. “Yeah. A lot of places in town do. Or did. Most of ‘em are closed up, now.”

“I noticed. Was it pack property?” Sam guessed. They had a similar situation in San Antonio: _Family Business_.

“After my dad died and we got run out here, John and Bobby were big on the whole communal living thing. They tried to make us a real pack like you guys are. Bought a bunch of properties, started businesses. Got the trailer park up and running for anybody who couldn’t afford a house, which was most folks.”

“I see.” Sam had heard as much. “But it didn’t work.”

Dean winced down at his menu. He looked like he was trying to forget the past and replace it with a lunch special. “Nothing ever stuck.”

Sam hummed. He skimmed his own menu, looking over the _‘fresh and fit’_ options—there weren’t many. “You know why that was?” he asked.

“No.” 

“What can I get you boys?” 

Sam frowned at the waitress who’d just appeared. “Um…”

“I’ll have the cheeseburger,” Dean recited. “No pickle, extra mayo. Coke.”

“Fries or chips?”

“Fries.”

Sam winced. The waitress looked at him expectantly and he hurried to say, “The Baja chicken wrap, please. No sauce. And water’s fine I guess.” The waitress nodded, took their menus and left them alone, and Sam found Dean’s eyes back on him right away.

“So?” Dean asked. “Why didn’t it work?”

“For a pack to really last, it needs leadership,” Sam said. “An Alpha. And not just any Alpha. One who’s strong enough to keep everything running smoothly, to keep everyone in line.”

Dean nodded. “And that’s you?”

“Come on, Dean, you know it is. You can sense it just as well as anyone else.” Sam watched the other man’s face for any sign of an argument, but none came. 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “I guess so.”

Their drinks arrived and Sam nodded politely at the waitress, who thankfully seemed to get that she should move away. Sam pressed on. “I can help your pack. I want to. But I can’t come here and claim to be their Alpha if I don’t also mate with the pack omega.”

This was where Dean flinched. He wasted time breaking a straw out of its wrapper and tucking it into his coke, taking a few sips. When he raised his eyes again, it was with a look of _‘well? Go on’._

Sam firmed his jaw. “My plan is to have a town hall next week, present the options to the pack and let them ask questions before they decide what they want to do. Anybody who wants to move east will have assistance and my guarantee of protection as pack Alpha.”

“You think they’ll accept you?” Dean asked, tone mild. “Just like that?”

“They should. I’ll have mated you by then and—”

Dean’s palm appeared on the tabletop in a sort of startled slap. He was staring. “What?”

“You know it’s what needs to happen,” Sam said. “It’ll help the pack. It’ll help you.”

“Me?” Dean sounded incredulous. “It’ll help me? Personally?”

“Yes.” Another scoff from Dean. Sam pursed his lips. “You’re unhappy.”

“Bet your ass.”

“No, I mean in general. You’re unhappy.” It was obvious that Dean didn’t like hearing this, but he also didn’t offer any argument. He just sipped angrily at his coke. Sam said, “You’ve got this shell around you that didn’t used to be there. It’s like you don’t let anyone in.”

Dean glared at him. “Bobby tell you that?”

“I figured it out for myself,” Sam snapped. “Why are you so defensive? So angry?”

“I’m not!”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you drop out of school when you were almost finished?”

Dean froze, clearly taken-aback. “I—what?”

“You heard me.”

Dean scowled. “I dunno. I just did. I was tired of it. What’s it matter to you, anyway? That was over a year ago.”

“You were doing well,” Sam pushed. “Brought your grades up to straight A’s after they put you into the Specials program.” Sam watched as Dean’s expression became guarded, the green of his eyes darkening to a less-friendly jade. Sam tilted his head coaxingly, proceeding with caution in his voice as he said, “You thrived in every omega-track class they put you in, Dean. Suddenly you were acing math and science classes you used to hate? Acting well adjusted?”

Dean drew into himself. “I dunno.”

“It’s because you liked it, didn’t you? You liked learning how to care for others.” Sam watched him carefully. “Was that the first time you ever took pride in it? In your designation?”

“So what if I did?” Dean hissed, cutting him off. “Doesn’t matter. I changed my mind. I don’t care about any of that. I _don’t_ want to be someone’s bitch.”

Sam inhaled deeply and sat back in his side of the booth, let it out in a sigh. He looked sadly at Dean, and he could tell the other wolf knew that he was exposed. “And that’s what it was, wasn’t it?” At Dean’s pinched look and evasive shake of the head, Sam pressed, “All the fights you started getting into with other kids at school; it wasn’t anybody else in the omega-track, was it?” No answer from Dean, but it really wasn’t needed. “They what, started making passes at you? Mean comments?”

Dean was staring at the Formica tabletop like he thought he could escape through it. He gave one, tight nod. “Yeah,” he  
whispered. “Yeah they did.”

“How many?” 

“Enough.” Dean’s nostrils flared wide as he sniffed the air, and then Sam’s did too and the next second their waitress was arriving, shoving their sandwich platters across the table at them. 

“Thanks,” Sam grunted, waiting until she went away. “Dean? So you started fighting and gave up?”

“No,” Dean said. “Not until some of their parents joined in. A couple of the teachers.” His gaze, which was boring holes through his cheeseburger, lifted up, and the sight of the hurt and shame in the kid’s eyes made Sam want to drive a fist through any person who’d made his mate feel this way. “And you weren’t here, so it’s not like I could say I had an Alpha. I _didn’t_. I had to deal with it myself.”

Sam’s lips parted, horror dawning on him. “Oh, Dean—”

“Junior year I had teachers telling me to apply to colleges—good ones. By Senior year it was the opposite. My Specials teachers were _hitting_ on me. I got tired of it. I quit.”

Sam grit his teeth, furious. “So you proved them right?”

“What?!” Dean looked at him, hurt. “No I didn’t! I wasn’t gonna sit around and continue going to all those Susie Homemaker classes when they thought that’s all I was good for!”

“But you liked it. It made you happy.”

Dean colored and averted his eyes. “Other things make me happy.”

“Yeah, like what? Being an asshole to me? To your family? Working at the garage?”

Dean raised his chin defensively. “I’m good at it.”

“What happened to the daycare job?”

Dean laughed, though there was no humor to it. He grabbed up his cheeseburger and took a huge bite. “They fired me.”

“What? Why?” The last Sam had heard from Jeff, Dean had been exceptional with kids. “I thought you liked it?”

“I didn’t,” Dean hissed. “Not like that. Watching all those kids left alone? Toddlers, babies?” He made a disgusted noise in his throat. “Humans are so warped. They all drop ‘em off in the morning on their way through town, going to work in El Paso. Don’t see their kids till late. What’s the point of even having children if you can’t raise them?”

Sam thought he could see where this was going. Werewolves, of course, would rather die than place their pups in daycare like humans did. It was unnatural. “Please tell me you kept this to yourself?”

“I tried. But watching those kids be treated like that… it was too much. Humans are so clueless. They don’t realize the damage they’re doing. Think it’s totally fine to just let strangers do all the work, pick their kids up at the end of the day when they’re too tired for anything good and spend three, maybe four hours of less than quality time with them. Miss every fucking thing that matters.” He scoffed. “You could _smell_ it on the babies, how it was hurting them. Talk about attachment disorders. Inconvenient-fucking-truth."

Sam sighed. “So you told the parents this?”

“They didn’t want to hear it. Got all offended—”

“Well of course they did! Jesus, Dean.”

“Just because it stings doesn’t mean it’s not reality.” Dean glared at him. “So yeah, I told them they were raising their kids like shit. My bosses got complaints.” He sniffed, took another huge bite off his sandwich, which by this point was almost gone—kid could eat. “I hear they have a no-Were hire policy now. Off the books, of course.”

Sam groaned. “Well can you blame them?” He shook his head at Dean, frustrated. “So what? Now you’ve made up your mind to act like the biggest jerk you can? Sabotage opportunities for yourself? Ignore your nature just to spite some people who belittled you in high school?”

Dean colored. “ _No,_ I just—”

“Because I can’t even begin to tell you how stupid that is,” Sam growled. “You _like_ being omega, Dean. It makes you feel happy. Fulfilled.” He tilted his head knowingly at the other man. “Makes everything in your life feel better, doesn’t it? And now you’re just angry all the time. Why do you think that is?”

Dean looked pained at hearing that; scared and caught, like a rabbit that couldn’t decide whether it was better to run, or just give in so it could be dead all the faster. “You’re just like everybody else,” he muttered, little conviction in his voice. His fingers inched towards the wrapped piece of pie.

Sam snatched it back out of reach across the table. “No, I’m not. I’m a good man, Dean. I’m a _very_ good Alpha. I can take care of you. You can take care of me.” When Dean’s eyes shot up at that, surprise lightening them to a sweeter color, Sam nodded. “You told me your wolf liked it, liked me. You said you thought it’d be a good idea.”

Dean blushed and looked away. “That was years ago.” He tried for the pie again but was denied.

“Hasn’t changed its mind, has it?”

Dean scowled at him. “Maybe it’s not about what my wolf wants, huh?”

“It should be.” Sam unwrapped the slice of pie and slid it permissively across the table to Dean. The omega snatched it up with a snarl. “Bobby says you’re all messed up,” Sam announced. “I’m inclined to agree.”

“Fuck Bobby and fuck you,” Dean said, though it was half-hearted, most of his attention already fixed on digging into his slice of apple pie. He moaned as he ate the first forkful, eyes slipping shut. “Fuck.”

Sam’s lips quirked despite himself. It was nice, seeing the omega let go and enjoy himself, even in something as small as this. It made Sam think of… other things. He cleared his throat after Dean finished a few more blissful bites. “Good?” he asked.

Dean’s eyes opened. “Yeah.”

Sam sighed and nodded, watched him eat for a bit more. He unwrapped his own slice of pie and ate some of it. When it seemed like the sugar fix might be calming Dean down somewhat, Sam dared to continue, “Things are really good out in San Antonio, you know. We live communally. Our _Blue Star_ 's are the _Family Business_ , and none of it's boarded up. There’s revenue, resources, social assistance. Everybody takes care of each other.” He tried to give Dean a soft look that he wouldn’t bristle at. “There’s a place for you there. You could be yourself. Nobody would make you feel lesser for it. Our pack is actually educated about designation. Omegas are _valued_.”

Dean chewed more slowly as he took that in. He looked hesitant. “…What about the humans?” he asked. 

Sam smiled. “It’s completely different there, I swear. People understand a lot better. They’re uh… more culturally sensitive.”

Dean snorted. “I’ll bet. That’s why your docket’s full, right?”

“Cases come from all over. But my work helps protect the pack. The income alone helps everybody. Hey.” Sam reached across the table, asking for Dean’s hand. After a strongly hesitant pause, Dean screwed up his face and gave it. Sam gave him a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright,” he said. “You’ll see. I’ll take care of you.”

For the barest, most split-second imaginable, Dean’s eyes got all soft and wanting, his scent lightening to something beautiful. His lips parted like he’d say something agreeable, but then,

“Dean!” 

The ‘ding’ of the bell above the diner’s door sounded as it opened and shut, three wolves—two male, one female; all around Dean’s age—calling his name out like it was the beginning line to a joke. Sam instantly knew they were trouble. Dean jerked his hand out of Sam’s and straightened up in his seat. He looked warily over as the group of three approached. “Hey,” Dean mumbled.

“Hiya,” one of them greeted when they were close. “What’s up?” His eyes flicked over Dean, the slices of pie, Sam. His smile grew. “You on a date?”

“ _No_.”

The kid didn’t listen. He nodded at Sam respectfully, as if that was supposed to make up for the way he was addressing Dean (it didn’t). “Alpha,” he said, hollow reverence in his tone. Sam doubted the kid had ever addressed anyone by the title in his life. He probably didn’t even understand the meaning of it. “Good to see somebody’s finally treating our Deena right.” He smirked at Dean, who was now glaring. “Some of us have tried of course, but he’s never let any of us… buy him pie.” 

Behind Asshole #1, another of the wolves snickered, and the third lifted her nose, markedly scenting the air. “Guess he’s gonna give it up real soon,” she muttered to Asshole #2, loud enough to be heard but still pretend that she hadn’t meant to. “That’s not the pie I’m smellin’.”

Two things happened at once. Dean’s fork clattered as he dropped it, claws popping over the Formica; and Sam shot up to standing in the booth. All three of the kids flinched back and Sam was halfway through growling out, “What the _fuck_ is your problem,” when Dean pushed out from the booth, shoved past them and left the diner completely, nearly ripping the front door off its hinges. Sam could only track him as far at the diner’s windows went, then he lost sight of him. He frowned, worrying about where the upset omega was off to. He hoped just back to his job at the garage.

Asshole #1 was sucking his teeth in mock-sympathy. “He gets so _emotional_. I hope you can handle him, man.”

Sam felt anger boil up in him and he fought to contain it. _These_ were the sorts of pricks who had made Dean so ashamed of his designation that he’d dropped out of school and become a rebel without a cause. It was a shame. In a real pack, no one would have dared. In a _real_ pack, punks like these kids would’ve been raised to respect omegas. Sam stepped out of the booth and pulled himself up to his full height. He stepped closer into the younger wolves’ space. “Listen to me, you puny pup,” he growled. “You’re nothing compared to him. You’re pathetic. You couldn’t earn yourself a mate like him if your life depended on it. So wipe that stupid fucking smirk off your face and show some respect.” He leant in, intimidating Asshole #1 into baring his neck. “I’m your new Alpha, kid,” he growled. “If you and your friends know what’s good for you, you’ll remember to act like it. If you’re too stupid to know what that means, then go ask your parents. And any time you see Dean? You’d just better remember his place in this pack. He’s as good as your Alpha too, now.” He pulled back, not surprised to see something bordering on terrified obedience covering the kid’s face. The other two looked only slightly less stricken. Sam smirked. “We’re having a pack meeting soon. I’ll explain everything. You might decide to come along to San Antonio, or you can stay in this shithole of a town, but either way?” He raised an eyebrow, reached back and plucked off a piece of the berry pie’s crust just for one last taste. He left the rest, walking towards the door and handing the waitress the two twenties when he saw her. He caught the kids’ eyes as he hauled the door open. “Either way, you’re _his_ bitch, now.”

He left the diner with the interesting scent-blend of blackberry-thyme pie and pissed-pants mad teenagers warring in his nostrils.


	3. Small Game, wild-caught, raw (probably rabbit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is some werewolf sex in this. Not described at length but I kind of feel like it's getting into beastiality territory at the very end. That's not really the point of it or how I'm intending it to be taken, but fair warning. All sexual activity going forward will be between the guys in their human forms.

When he rushed out of the diner to try and see where Dean ran off to, it wasn’t hard to find him. The smell of upset omega lead Sam down the sidewalk and around the corners of several defunct businesses. He cornered him in between the back of an old brick building and the tin wall of another. There wasn’t anyone around, and so when Dean’s upset eyes flicked up to him with a warning glare, Sam ignored it.

“Don’t,” Dean said.

“Don’t what?” Sam stepped closer, getting into Dean’s space against the wall. Way too close for human personal space, not as much for wolves like them.

“What happened in there,” Dean mumbled. “Don’t try and make it okay. Just… forget it.” Dean looked equal parts embarrassed, angry, and flat out tired. 

It made Sam want to scoop him up and take him someplace safe. Maybe a den in the woods. He had to curl his fingers into his palms to keep from reaching out to hold the kid. “Hey,” he said, careful to keep his voice soft. “I’m not gonna talk about it if you don’t want.”

Dean nodded tightly. “What’d you do to them?”

“Nothing.”

Dean’s lips quirked. He looked distrusting. “Yeah, right.”

Sam shrugged and smiled. “A friendly warning. I told them that you’re my omega, and that puts them well beneath you in pack order.” Sam watched as emotions played over Dean’s pretty features. There was indignance, but then after that there was reluctant pleasure. Sam wanted to coax more of the latter out. “Hey,” he said, finally letting himself touch Dean, reaching up with a hand to palm the side of his neck, his jaw. “Forget them, alright? You’re with me now.”

Dean squirmed. “Gotta get back to work.” 

“You don’t _have_ to do anything,” Sam said. “How long are you going to be there, anyways, before the move to San Antonio?”

Dean flushed and frowned, but he didn’t make any argument about how he wasn’t going to be moving, which pleased Sam immensely. Instead he just shrugged, trying to pull himself up to a taller height in a manner that Sam found kind of adorable. “I should go back,” he said, but it lacked conviction. 

“Why don’t we do something?”

“What?”

Sam smiled a little. “We could run.”

“What?” Dean’s scent spiked with interest but he looked wary. “You mean…”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Together. You and me.”

Dean looked like he wanted to agree, which excited Sam to no end. But he held back, protesting, “We don’t really have land for that.”

“We don’t have to go far,” Sam said, eager to capitalize on this new willingness he was seeing in Dean. He leaned in and nosed under the hinge of his jaw, scenting him deeply and obviously. He wasn’t rough about it because he didn’t want to spook the other man and have him push away. Dean went tense underneath him for a moment, but then he relaxed, allowing it. Sam smiled against his skin. “Come on,” he coaxed. “It’ll be fun. You can show me around, burn off some energy.”

“E-energy?” Dean stuttered. He smelled…

Sam pulled back and met his eyes. Such a light green right now, more sage than forest because of the way the afternoon sun was hitting them, so unusual. _Beautiful_ , his mind said, quickly echoed by a growled agreement of _“Mate”_ , from his wolf. He offered Dean a tender look, praying it wouldn’t be shot down. “You still haven’t hit it,” he said.

Dean winced and turned his head away. “No.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Of course I do!” Dean hissed. “I have a job I have to show up for, you know. Think it’s fun, working like that?”

“I’ll tell your boss you need the time off,” Sam offered, but that was met with a mighty scoff from Dean.

“No! He’s human. He won’t understand.”

“If I explain to him—”

“What?” Dean growled. “So my coworkers can make jokes about me being on the rag? No thank you.” He glared at Sam. “Just stay out of it!”

“So let’s run,” Sam said. He held his gaze firmly, showed him there was no mocking or derision here. “Tell ‘em you’re sick and you need the rest of the day. You can be with me. I’ll stay with you the whole time.” 

Dean shivered, his body letting off even more of that sweet, pre-heat scent that was getting harder and harder for Sam to resist. _God_ , he just wanted to clamp his teeth around that spot in Dean’s neck, make that 7am pancake smell turn into something richer, deeper. Sam pressed their bodies closer together and his hands found Dean’s hips. Dean grabbed him at the shoulders like he’d push him off. “Don’t,” Sam murmured. “Don’t fight me, Dean. Come on. Please.”

Maybe it was the ‘please’ that did it, but Dean relaxed the tiniest bit. His hands stopped pushing and instead just touched. His eyes flicked up to stare at Sam. He licked his lips nervously. “I’ve never… shared it, with anyone before.”

Oh, but that made all of the possessive wolf parts of Sam’s hindbrain growl in satisfaction. He tried to remain human and just smile. “You’ve never paired.”

Dean shook his head. Suddenly he looked much more vulnerable. “M’not a virgin,” he said, like he was defending himself. It made Sam snort. 

“Yeah, I gathered as much.” Dean’s eyes narrowed and he made to push again. But it was weak and uninspired. Sam easily stopped it. “Don’t have to prove anything to me, little wolf,” he murmured, pushing Dean harder against the wall by his hips, putting his nose back against the warm curve of his neck. “I didn’t think you were saving yourself for me.”

“Good,” Dean snipped, though it was kind of ruined by the way his voice went breathy at the end. He liked the way that Sam was scenting him more aggressively now. Liked being pushed against the wall too, most likely.

“Tell me it’s just been humans,” Sam said, couldn’t keep himself from saying, even though it was needy and he really didn’t want to focus on either of their past sex lives. His wolf was a different creature though; it needed to know. “Tell me.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Just… just humans.”

Sam growled. “Good.” He fit his teeth against Dean’s scent gland, could feel how swollen it was beneath the skin. “God, want to pair with you,” he groaned. “Say I can.”

Dean shook his head, whimpered little noises that sounded like ‘no’ and ‘yes’ at the same time. Made him sound like prey. Sam ripped his mouth away from his neck as he felt his teeth start to shift. He took a step back, forcing space between them. When he met Dean’s eyes, he knew that his own had shifted. Dean was looking at them with something bordering on desire. Or maybe terror.

“They red?” Sam asked.

Dean gave a little nod. “I… I’ve never seen that. Not since I was little.”

“Your dad?”

Again, Dean nodded, and the mention of Alpha Ackles brought the mood back down to something safer. Sam tried not to preen at the things he could see Dean figuring out in his mind. Only pack alphas had eyes that’d go red. It was a dominance thing, a competence thing. Sam stood there and waited. “I…” Dean started, then paused, bit his goddamn lip again. Kid had no idea how good he looked. “I’ll run with you,” he finally said. And he was trying to brave, to match Sam’s dominance with the masculine jut to his jaw, shoulders wide and voice forced to its deepest register. It _did_ things to Sam’s insides, to be challenged like that by his own omega.

“Good,” he managed to say, English words quickly becoming difficult as he reached for the hem of his shirt, tugged up and over, felt his hair go messy from it. “Come on.”

“Wait.” It was firm enough to get Sam’s attention. His eyes refocused. He waited. Dean was breathing open mouth by now. His hands were on his jeans, fingers near the belt like they’d undo it. “You have to promise you won’t bond me,” he said.

Sam groaned, eyes slipping shut. “I can’t promise that,” he said. “Dean, you know I can’t.” Even if he’d wanted to, his wolf was going to be sinking fang the second they were knotted. Sam opened his eyes again, hoped that Dean could see the humanity behind the red. “I _have_ to—”

“Just not this time,” Dean said. He looked pained, like he wanted to shift and run and fuck as badly as Sam did—hell probably more, since he was the one about to hit heat. “Don’t do it today. Give me a little more time, please.”

Sam wanted to explode, didn’t understand why the hell that made any sense whatsoever. But he could see the pleading in Dean’s eyes, could see how much he meant it, for whatever reason. He could smell how much the kid wanted to let go and do this with him. All he needed now was Sam’s promise.

“Fine,” he gritted, managing to mean it. “I don’t see what the point is, but fine. I won’t bond you.”

Dean took him at his word. Sam wasn’t lying when he said that he wouldn’t bite right through Dean’s pretty scent gland when he was balls deep in him, but he kind of hated that the other wolf believed him so easily. He was too trusting. “Okay,” Dean said, and the assertiveness was gone from his voice and his posture again. His fingers made quick work of his belt, then his pants. When he saw Sam just staring, he urged him on. “Come on, let’s go!”

It made Sam grin, the eagerness that Dean now had for it. Sam had no doubt that he could force the kid right into his heat as soon as they were shifted, but it occurred to him that he should probably go back to the garage and tell Dean’s human boss something about why his employee wasn’t coming back. “You have to tell your boss,” he said, because he knew that Dean would prefer to do it himself. “You have a cell?” 

Dean was clearly taken aback by that, but after a second he nodded. He fished it out of his pants pocket and dialed the number, making some lame excuse to his boss, mentioning “wolf stuff” in a vague manner that most humans would be too shy to pry further into. Dean’s boss clearly was. Sam’s enhanced hearing could pick up on the man’s voice over the line, his grumpy acceptance that he was losing an employee to biology that he didn’t fully understand. Sam wondered if Dean had told him he was omega. 

“Okay,” Dean said, hanging up. Before Sam knew it, Dean was already naked and huddling down on the ground in preparation. Sam hurried to shed the rest of his clothes and join him. “Nearest tree line?” he asked, probably the last human speech he’d be capable of, since he could feel his gums aching, his skin itching from the fur that was about to shoot through like new grass.

When Dean turned his head over, his eyes were far more yellow than they were green. He grunted in a pleasure-pained way and nodded towards the end of the alley. _Not far_. Then his eyes slammed shut and he shifted.

.oOo.

It was a myth that canines were colorblind. Wolves could see in shades of grey, blue and yellow. It sounded limited, but when you factored in the sensitivity to sound and touch and smell that came with a shift, it was anything but. Sam never felt more vibrant and alive than he did when he was running. Getting to see Dean’s wolf form again felt like the greatest gift, especially when Sam was right there with him, big and black to Dean’s small and red.

Dean’s wolf was nearly half the size of Sam’s. Newly-shifted, they greeted each other with a quick rub of muzzles, a gentle checking in before turning to more serious business. Dean led the way and Sam followed after him, loping lazy big steps behind Dean’s faster pace. They crossed a couple of back alleys and squeezed between buildings, and then they were suddenly away from the town, packed earth giving way to tall brush grass and then trees. Sam felt himself relax, at home in the woods and away from the threat of people. Here it just smelled like pine needles and Dean, which was a far cry better than the scent of human houses, cars and bodies. Securely in the forest, he chuffed happily and lunged forward to grab at Dean’s tail. _Come here. Mine._.

Dean yipped in an overly-dramatic way, but Sam just growled and lunged to get him again. Dean’s small wolf whirled around and snarled at him, yellow-green eyes narrowed in warning. _Make me_. 

Sam panted happily, waiting for the other wolf to get with the program.

It took a moment, but Dean’s fur went down and he came closer, sniffing experimentally. Sam whined and lowered his head to the ground, moving forward in a low half-crawl, encouraging Dean’s shy wolf to say hello. Dean pawed at the dirt for a second, stalling, but then he worked up the nerve and came closer, sticking his nose into the fur at Sam’s neck. Sam rumbled in approval, allowing Dean to scent him for a few seconds before his wolf demanded that he take over control. 

He surged up from the ground, surprising another yip out of Dean. But this time he didn’t give him time to pull away. Sam growled and pounced, tumbling them until the smaller wolf was underneath. Sam snarled and held his teeth to Dean’s neck, waiting to hear the thready whine of submission he was looking for. When he did, he nosed and licked Dean’s neck in approval, then nipped once, _Hold still_ , and went lower. 

Dean held stock still as Sam nosed along his underside, nuzzling the soft fur that turned white at his belly. His scent was stronger here, making Sam’s head swim with lust and the urge to _take_. Sam whined and nudged, telling Dean that he could let go now, fall into his heat cycle. Sam wouldn’t let another wolf touch him. He gave a prodding growl, _Mine._

Dean seemed receptive, at least. He was panting heavily, his scent growing stronger, bleeding into that earthy, rich smell of true heat. Sam was sure his wolf had triggered it and he growled happily, feeling utterly possessive and eager for what he’d do to Dean next. He pawed at Dean and nosed further down, sticking his muzzle between the other wolf’s legs, licking him there, nosing under his tail—

Dean jerked to life, catching Sam off guard and wiggling out from underneath him. He scrambled away, shooting off into the forest at warp speed. 

Sam fell onto his side with a surprised huff. He felt everything in him sing in pleasure as he watched Dean run away. Licking up over his nose to catch the taste of slick that he’d just barely managed to gather, he got to his feet. He hoped Dean would run fast, he wanted a good chase.

Dean was small and in heat, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t evade capture. He was lightening fast, and he knew the woods better than Sam. He found a stream and managed to use the water to mask his scent for a little bit, but Sam was a good tracker and had all the skill of a pack Alpha going after what was his. It wasn’t long before he was tackling Dean all over again, only this time with far more seriousness than before. They skidded for several feet across the summer-dry brush before Sam had him firmly underneath him.

Dean gave it up right away, going limp and receptive when Sam clamped down on the scruff of his neck. He whined in submission and rolled over, showing his belly, tail thumping hard in the forest underbrush. _Happy to be caught_. Sam’s wolf howled in satisfaction at the display. He pounced down on Dean’s smaller form, covering him with his bulk and wasting no time in sticking his muzzle back under the omega’s tail. _Mine_. He was wet there, his body scenting so strong it made Sam hard. He growled and shoved Dean down, mounting him from behind and humping up against him. He waited to see if the omega would offer another token fight—if he did, that was fine. Sam would be more than happy to chase him down again if that’s what Dean needed. But he didn’t fight Sam off. Instead he lowered his front and held still for him, letting him find the right angle and slot home inside of his body. 

Sam’s world narrowed down to the feeling of being inside his mate. He snarled and locked his paws on him, setting teeth to his scruff to make sure that he wouldn’t move. Not that he had to worry. Dean keened and gave into it just beautifully.


	4. Hollandaise Sauce

Sam woke up in the woods feeling somewhat hungover. 

“Ugh.”

He groaned and squinched his eyes, rolling to his side and feeling disoriented. He _hurt_. His body didn’t want to be human; naked skin on harsh forest floor. It’d been too long, he thought as he blinked at the tree-filtered morning light. Too long since he’d shifted. He was getting too old for that.

Bad luck meant that the firm had been slammed with a capital case during the last two full moons. Not Sam’s division; nothing werewolf related, just some human who’d killed another human. But Sam was still the firm newbie and nobody had had to _say_ anything to make it known that it was all hands on deck, especially if he ever wanted to make partner. He hadn’t been able to get away long enough to run with the pack either month. 

The effect of putting off a shift until now was making his body feel like he’d just started back up with hard core workouts after months of inactivity. His muscles didn’t _understand_. Sam grunted and rolled up to a sitting position, pine needles digging against his ass. He was _very_ aware that he’d had sex. The evidence of it was kind of plastered on the inside of one of his thighs, as were a few pieces of dead leaves. He frowned and began to pick them off, nosing at the air before he even realized that he was alone, or that he disliked that.

“…Dean?” His tongue moved in his mouth like a recalcitrant thing, speech feeling unnatural even though he was back to his human form. They’d stayed shifted for hours, he remembered keenly. Two hard-packed forms of muscle and fur and instinct, fucking and running and fucking again. Tearing through the dark and ripping apart a small animal between the two of them (rabbit, he thought it might have been). Being human again felt wrong, as did Dean’s obvious absence. Sam looked around and tried to use more of his human senses to figure out what was what. 

He realized how close he was to the Winchester’s house when he heard the barely-there trickle of the stream, smelled the burn pile. He was likely already somewhere on the property, and he realized that Dean must’ve purposefully led them back this way at the end of their run. That put Sam in a better mood. He wouldn’t have to shift to get back to town for his clothes and things. He could recoup at the house. Eat, dress. Hopefully reconnect with Dean.

With a sigh that was roughly equal parts satisfied and bone-weary, he got to his feet and started off in the direction of the house. He saw the house and was already looking back down at his bare feet in the grass as he crossed the yard and heard a faint, 

_“Hol-y shit.”_

He glanced up, saw two faces in the back window that looked out from the kitchen, saw the faces disappear. It was Dean and Adam. Adam was the one who had cursed. Sam couldn’t see them anymore, but they were talking.

 _“Shut up.”_ Dean’s voice.

 _“How could you turn_ that _down?”_

An annoyed grunt from Dean. _“Obviously, I didn’t.”_

_“He is a specimen. Did you see his… his… his everything??”_

_“Get away from the window! He’s going to see you.”_

_“Don’t care. Oof. I think my ovaries just exploded.”_

_“You’re so stupid.”_

_“Seriously. You’re the one in heat. How have your ovaries not exploded? Look at him!”_

_“I saw him.”_ Dean’s voice was dry. _“Calm down. Jesus.”_

Sam grinned as he went up on the back porch and listened further. His hearing was always more sensitive after a shift, and even then, more sensitive than most other wolves. He figured that maybe Dean and his brother didn’t realize he could hear them from outside the house right now. He leaned against the screen door and listened to them bicker for a minute longer, before pushing through.

“You’re not whisking it fast enough,” Dean was hissing. “It’s going to break! Give it here.”

Sam walked into the kitchen to see Dean hugging a large ceramic bowl to his front, right arm moving at warp speed with a whisk. He was dressed in pajama pants and an old teeshirt, hair still damp from a shower. His eyes flicked up right away—keen, green. Happy and trying not to show it.  
Sam caught the scent of lemon juice and sugar, eggs. Dean. He smiled softly at him. “Morning.”

Dean’s lips twitched. He was still whisking furiously and clearly peeved at his brother for having done a half-assed job at making… whatever it was they were making. “Hey,” he said. “You made it back.”

“You expected me not to?”

Adam was at the stove, fishing blobs out of boiling water with a slotted spoon. He looked very enthused to see Sam, which was both hilarious and inappropriate. He was biting his lip and letting his eyes peruse him freely, trailing up and down his naked form in a way that was brazen even for a wolf. Sam thought that he was finally coming to see the extent of the kid’s crush on him. “Hi, Adam,” he greeted. “Making us breakfast?”

Adam beamed and Dean scowled. “Failing’s more like it.” He gave the yellow puddle in the bowl an ugly look and proceeded to dump it in the trashcan. “M’gonna have to start over,” he grumbled. 

Sam shrugged and leaned against the kitchen wall, well aware that he was putting his nakedness on full display but not really caring. “I can wait.” He scratched at his lower stomach with the blunt ends of his nails. “Should probably shower.”

Adam looked like he would swallow his own tongue. Dean just smirked and nodded, directing him towards the stairs. “Go on. John probably has some clothes that’ll fit you. Or, well…” His eyes flicked up and down Sam’s form, squinting in doubt. “Fit you well enough,” he amended. “Till you get your things.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll um, leave some stuff just outside the bathroom door up there, for when you’re finished,” Dean said.

Sam was very, very tempted to ask if he wanted to join him. But one glance to Adam and he decided to hold his tongue. “Kay,” he said. “Thanks. Uh, see you guys in a bit.”

He trudged up the stairs, grateful that he didn’t run into John on the way. Shutting himself in the hall bathroom, he could hear as Adam started back up on talking about him to Dean downstairs. 

“I just don’t get you. He’s perfect, you know. Why didn’t you let him?”

“Just because he’d bite me doesn’t mean we’d suddenly be a perfect match or whatever,” Dean said.

“Close enough to it. What’re you so afraid of? He seems like a nice guy.”

“You just like him because he compliments your cooking. Grow up.”

A low, embarrassed growl from Adam. “I’m not some stupid kid anymore. I _know_ how bonds work, and everybody and their uncle can sense how your wolf and his—”

“How about: it’s none of your business, then?” Dean snapped. “I’m making decisions for myself.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Independent, but you’re the pack Omega. If you don’t want to live up to that fact, then there are plenty of other people who’d be glad to take your place.”

Sam winced against the bathroom door even as he heard Dean growl at Adam’s challenge.

“Shut your mouth. When and how I bond with him are none of your business. If you keep pestering me about it, I’ll… I’ll beat you up.” Silence, a few noises of footsteps crossing the kitchen floor, dishes being picked up. “Now here, take this and pay attention. You have to whisk _rapidly_ or else the emulsion’ll break.”

“And everybody acts like _I’m_ the cook of the family.”

“ _Pay attention._ Christ. Don’t want to waste these ingredients twice…”

Exhaling, Sam stepped away from the closed bathroom door and reached to turn on the tub’s spigot, grateful when the rush of water drowned out whatever else the two brothers were talking about. He pulled the diverter up and the spray burst against the plastic shower curtain even louder. He stepped in.

.oOo.

“You know,” Sam said as he came down the last few stairs and returned to the kitchen. “My hearing’s really sensitive.”

Dean looked over. He was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, booted feet propped up on the table. His eyes raked up and down Sam’s form, which by now was freshly-showered and dressed in John’s not-quite-big-enough clothes. “How sensitive?” he asked. 

“Enough to hear people talking from a few rooms away, if I focus.” Sam knew it didn’t warrant any further explanation. The look on Dean’s face told him that he understood. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t focus so hard, then.”

“Maybe.”

Dean’s eyes flicked toward the screen door that led off the back of the kitchen. “Adam’s on the porch out there. With John.”

Sam nodded. He wasn’t focusing exactly, but he could hear the faint murmur of their morning chatter, could smell the scent of coffee wafting in. Realizing that he might only have a few more moments of privacy left with Dean before the day crashed over them, he went over to the table and took a seat in the chair next to him. He pushed at one of the other man’s boots while pulling a plate over and scooping food onto it. “Feet off the table,” he said.

Dean listened, mouth quirking as he did. “Aren’t mother hen lines like that supposed to be mine?”

Sam shrugged. He ladled some of the—now successful—hollandaise sauce onto his eggs. “I dunno. You don’t seem like a mother hen type to me.” He waited for Dean to speak, but when he didn’t say a word, Sam added, “But you’re the one who’s actually responsible for this?” He indicated the food—there were also healthy portions of bacon, sausage and scratch-made biscuits on the table. “More secret recipes?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. Adam can cook.”

“Because he learned from you.”

“He’s good enough. And if you’re looking for a ‘mother hen’ type…”

Sam groaned. “Yeah. I heard him before.”

“So?” Dean wasn’t looking away now. He seemed interested. “You gonna take him up on his offer?”

“Please.” Sam scoffed. “You’re the old Alpha’s son. It has to be you I mate with or else nobody’s going to respect my authority. You know that.” Again, Dean didn’t say anything, but he didn’t argue the point, which was nice. If nothing else, Sam was relieved that his mate-to-be was a realist. He nodded in satisfaction and dug into his food, just barely managing to hold back a moan when the first forkful was in his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring what was surely another secret Ackles recipe, for a long moment before opening them again. 

When he did it was to see Dean watching him with what looked like anticipation. Eagerness, maybe. He quickly blinked, shuttering the emotion away. “You like it?”

Sam smiled. Kid couldn’t help but to ask. It was endearing. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah s’amazing.”

“Good.”

Sam took a few more huge bites, then set in to dredging pieces of one of the straight-from-heaven biscuits through the extra sauce. He didn’t worry too much about table manners, given that he was sitting next to Mr. Boots-on-the-table Ackles. “So,” he said after a long pause. “You didn’t seem to like Adam’s idea either.” He could remember the sound of the growl he’d heard; the one Dean had loosed at the mere suggestion of another omega claiming Sam as their mate. It made him happy, the memory of that growl, the thought that Dean would be possessive of him. 

“S’because it’s a stupid fucking idea,” Dean mumbled.

“So then when are you going to let me bond you?”

Dean stiffened. His eyes flew to assess the kitchen table that sat between them, as if he thought Sam might lunge over and do the deed right on top of the breakfast spread. “I… don’t know,” he said. He looked at Sam, then raked his hands through his hair. “Hell, I don’t even know if I want to…” 

Sam raised his eyebrows in question. 

Dean huffed in frustration. “I don’t know what I want,” he said. “I just…”

“Last night in the woods didn’t convince you?” 

“Please.” Dean scowled at him. “Last night was about getting some relief. Not some fated-mate frolic through the woods, or whatever the hell Adam thinks it was.”

Sam wasn’t exactly disappointed to hear Dean put it that way, but he _was_ disappointed to see the defensive walls coming back up. He could see it in Dean’s irritated posture, his tense features and waspish tone. “I’m not trying to rush you,” Sam said, hoping that would put the other wolf at ease. “Hell, we don’t have to bond at all before the move, if it’s not what you want.” When Dean looked up in surprise at that announcement, Sam smiled permissively at him. “Yeah, I’m not going to rush it, Dean. I can tell you’re afraid of that.”

Dean frowned. “What I’m _afraid_ of is being roped into a relationship that I don’t want and can’t escape.”

Okay, _that_ kind of stung. Sam tried not to sulk. He distracted himself by reaching for the carton of orange juice and pouring himself a glass. “No bonding till we’re in San Antonio, if that’s what you want. But I have other expectations that you’ll have to meet.”

“Oh?” Dean looked leery. “And what are those?”

“Well I’ll be scent-marking you regularly,” Sam said, unable to keep his gaze from sliding up and down Dean’s form where he sat. “Not that I haven’t already, but…”

Dean frowned and blushed, shifting in place. “Yeah. I _showered_ , dumbass.”

Sam barked out a laugh despite himself. “Yeah.” He raised his wrist, reached over the table and pressed it to Dean’s neck. He watched in satisfaction as the other wolf accepted it, eyes slipping shut and tilting his head to make it easier for Sam to spread his scent around. Sam spoke quietly, “The stance is: we’re mates. Unbonded as of yet, but you’re mine. My omega. And I’m your alpha. People need to understand that.”

Dean grumbled. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And the other thing is the um, well… a wedding.”

Dean’s eyes flew open at that one. “ _What?_ ” His reaction was understandable, and Sam smiled in apology.

“Yeah I know.”

“A _wedding_. Like… courthouse, church, suits and vows, wedding?”

“It’s just for appearances,” Sam excused. _Marriage_ , as it was, was more of a human thing. Weres didn’t usually bother with it. Formal weddings were virtually unheard of. But things in San Antonio were different. Sam told him, explaining, “It’s one of the things we do in our pack, as part of our assimilation protocol.”

“That’s seriously what you call it?” 

“Think of it like public relations. It’s to try and get the wider community to—”

“Like us?”

“Understand us,” Sam corrected. “Humans are—”

“Fickle, judgmental idiots?”

Sam sighed. “Don’t be that way, Dean.”

“Are you kidding me? Humans murdered my parents.”

“ _A_ human murdered your parents. _Humans_ arrested, prosecuted and sentenced him.”

Dean growled quietly in his throat. “You really are a bunch of liberal fruitcakes out east, aren’t you?”

“Like it or not, they’re the majority and now they know we exist and how to pick us out. If we want to live in their world, then we need to make efforts to get along. A big part of that is showing them how much alike we are, rather than how different.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah. So what? The Pack Alpha has to have a big public wedding to show how normal we are?”

Sam shrugged but he nodded. “It shows that we’re stable, dependable. Wolves mate for life. It’s one way we actually outperform them on their own standards.” 

Dean looked away. “It’s all a lie. We’re animals. Shouldn’t have to pretend. Or apologize for it.”

“Yeah well…”

“They’d piss themselves if they knew the truth.”

Sam frowned. “Maybe. …Or go back to burning houses down.”

Dean inhaled sharply. Shocked, perhaps, at how Sam brought it up. Neither one of them had discussed the fire or Alpha Ackles’ murder since Sam had arrived. They hadn’t talked about it at all in years, and now Sam threw the fact out blithely. It was a risky move on his part, but Dean just nodded tightly at what he’d said. “Yeah, or that.” He pulled away then, sitting back in his chair in a way that made it clear he was cutting Sam off again. “I’m heading out in a little bit.”

“Oh, where?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Just out. Gonna hang out with some friends.” He stared at Sam, clearly waiting for a challenge, or for Sam to demand more details.

It was certainly tempting, but Sam controlled himself. He shrugged and looked down to his plate, scraping up another forkful of eggs. “I was under the impression you didn’t have many friends.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something back to that, but just at that moment the door to the back porch swung open and John and Adam came in. Dean immediately switched gears, focusing on the food and ignoring the company. He started loading things onto his plate. 

“John,” Sam greeted amicably. “Morning.”

John’s eyes shot to Dean, surveying his behavior, then back to Sam. He twisted his lips, looking vaguely uncomfortable but perhaps satisfied. It was obvious that he knew what had transpired between his adopted son and Sam last night. “Morning,” he said. He sat down at the table and reached for the carafe to refill his coffee mug. “Heard you shifted with Dean last night.”

Sam glanced to Dean, trying to gauge his reaction. But other than a silent snarl, Dean just kept devouring his plate of food. “Um… yeah,” Sam said, returning his attention to John. “We ran.” He didn’t say, _“And fucked like bunnies,”_ but it was obvious that was included. Sam didn’t miss how John looked pointedly at Dean’s unmarked neck. Sam felt like he had to say, “We’ve decided to hold off on bonding for now.” Dean’s head jerked up, paying attention. Sam offered him a look that he hoped said ‘See? I’ve got your back.’

John didn’t seem pleased, if his quiet grunt was anything to go by. “Folks might not take you seriously,” he said.

“Oh, they will.” Sam reached across the table, taking Dean’s hand in his. The omega tensed but thankfully didn’t pull away. “We’ll make it clear how things stand.”

“I sure hope so,” John said. “The pack meeting; Bobby and I’ve been spreading the word. Tonight’s the night, if you put out the call.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Good. No need to draw things out.”

“You know what you’re going to say?”

Again, Sam nodded. “Yeah.” Hell, he had a _PowerPoint_ presentation prepared, though he didn’t share that fact with John. He was sure the other alpha would make fun of him for it. “I’ll want you and Bobby up front with me, backing me up,” he said. 

John sipped his coffee with a nod. “‘Course.”

Sam looked over at Dean. “You too.”

Dean’s eyes widened the barest bit. “Me?”

“Of course. You’re my mate.”

Dean swallowed visibly. “The whole pack’ll be there?”

“The pack needs to see you by my side.” Sam watched Dean’s face as it shuttered. He didn’t like how hesitant the other wolf looked. “Dean?”

“I’m just omega,” he muttered. 

“The _pack_ Omega,” Sam corrected.

Dean shrugged, pushed the food around on his plate. “I don’t think I need to be there,” he said. 

“Well I wasn’t asking,” Sam said, tone hardening. “You’re coming.” Dean’s eyes flicked up to him, peeved, and Sam added, “Tonight. Eight o’clock. Elementary school cafeteria.”

“We got permission to use the school?” John asked.

“I’ll get it,” Sam said. He was still watching Dean, waiting for his reply. “Dean?” he said. “You’re going to be there. It’s important. Understand?”

Dean dropped his fork and it clattered loudly on the plate. “Why? Because you say so? So that you can hold me up in front of the whole pack, show them I’m your property?”

Sam’s lips thinned. “To show them that you’re my mate, yes. I thought we agreed that—”

“We didn’t agree on anything,” Dean hissed, pushing away from the table and standing up. “I see what’s happening.”

“What?”

“One night together and now you’re bossing me around.”

Sam flushed. He glanced to John, embarrassed at being spoken to by his omega like this in front of what was practically his father-in-law. He could just see the expectation in John’s expression; how he wanted Sam to reprimand Dean. Sam glared at Dean and said, “Sit down. I can explain. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Dean drew even further back. “No. I don’t think I will sit down. And you know what? Putting myself on display in front of the entire pack doesn’t sound like my cup of tea, so I think I’ll skip that too.”

“Stop being a brat,” John snapped. He looked at Dean with disgust. “You know it’s what’s needed.”

Sam said, “You’re just acting up now because you don’t want me bossing you around. But that’s not what this is.” When he could see Dean’s expression waiver, he pressed, “Come on, Dean. I need you. Don’t give me attitude over this.”

That was the wrong thing to say, and Sam could’ve kicked himself for not choosing different phrasing. It came out sounding condescending and authoritarian, and Sam was sure that was why Dean once again bristled and stepped away. Only this time he kept going, grabbing his keys and wallet from the kitchen counter and heading for the screen door. “I told you,” he said as he left, “I’ve got plans with friends.”

“How can you be so selfish?!” Adam hissed, the first thing he’d said since reentering from the porch with John.

Dean paused in the doorway. When he looked back, it was at Sam and nobody else. “If you can’t get them to follow you without the _pack Omega_ under your boot, then maybe they shouldn’t follow you at all.” He pushed through the door then, and it cracked loudly in its wooden frame when the spring hinge pulled it back shut.


End file.
